


cross my heart and hope to die

by TripsH



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate universe- Hunger Games Inspired, Blood, Character Death, HQBB2014, I'm Sorry, M/M, Major injuries, Slow Build, Violence, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 58,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2381123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TripsH/pseuds/TripsH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This summer was their last chance, their final stand—kill or be killed, destroy or be destroyed. Failure <i>wasn’t</i> an option. Not for them. </p><p>Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime had crossed their hearts over a promise written in blood and punctuated with the utter decimation of a life they had once known, had thrown themselves into a new life where death was a commonality, survival a privilege. But they had only their goal in mind, only thought of the promises that drove them forward: to fight, to survive, to beat Shiratorizawa and pay them back for all that had been forcibly ripped from them. To win.</p><p> <br/>No matter what it took, <i>they would.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	cross my heart and hope to die

**Author's Note:**

> This is for HQBB and I've been working very hard on it for a few months. It spiraled way out of control from what I originally intended, like most things I write usually do, and is basically a big giant example of how I have lost any control I ever once had in my life and let my emotions lead my writing. This is a Hunger Games inspired setting, but I have pretty much created the whole universe this fic takes place in myself. The best comparison I can make is that it's similar to a team version of the Hunger Games. This was basically born because I'm weak for anything and everything HG related and iwaoi is my everything, and it's been a dream of mine to write something HG inspired for years, so when inspiration hit me over the head for this I took it and ran with it. I'm very sorry. 
> 
> The main songs that have been major inspiration while I've worked on this fic are ["Silhouettes"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jaCCYL7TXLY) by Of Monsters and Men and ["Homesick"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jjcCApxRGQk) by Sleeping at Last. Silhouettes is basically the theme song for this whole story, and some of its lyrics are used in some parts as breaks between scenes. 
> 
> Some quick thank yous: 
> 
> To [Ten](http://www.iriskitten.tumblr.com), my hqbb partner, who drew the amazing and beautiful [art](http://churinne.tumblr.com/post/98765361788/wow-i-should-use-this-blog-more-often-huh) for this fic. I loved working with you, and you were absolutely amazing the whole time and were super easy/nice to work with! Thank you so so much for everything, especially the beautiful artwork! 
> 
> To my irl friend and my sister, who both listened to me complain and cry about this so so much even though they don't know anything about Haikyuu!! or iwaoi. Also to my sister for giving me some good music to listen to! I am sorry for putting you both through this mess. You both will always be the best! 
> 
> To [Emmy](http://tsukki.co.vu/), who read over some scenes for me and helped me out a lot when I was doubting and listened to me complain and cry about this whole thing. You helped me so much with what you read for me, and I could not be more thankful for you. Thank you for everything! Love you lots! 
> 
> And finally, thank you to the people who organized HQBB. Everything was so great, and this was so much fun. Thank you for putting it all together and working so hard on it! 
> 
> Well, there's no going back now, so here we go! Hope you enjoy it!

Two minutes. Two minutes slowly ticking away on the timer. Two minutes until the Games started.

His heart pounded in his chest, fingers twitched anxiously as his eyes remained transfixed on the time—on the Games approaching with every second passed.

The middle of summer signified so much more than stifling heat waves and sweltering sun rays beating down on their backs. No, it brought the Games upon them, the most anticipated event of every year.

This summer was their last chance, their final stand—kill or be killed, destroy or be destroyed. Failure _wasn’t_ an option. Not for them.

_Breathe. Just breathe._

“You good?” A hand rested on his back, fingers tangled in his jacket comfortingly. An assurance, an _“I’m here.”_

“Fine, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa Tooru turned to find Iwaizumi Hajime, his teammate, best friend, partner, by his side. Just like always. His touch drew Oikawa out of the state he was in—caught up in his own head, thoughts frantically rushing forward—and when their eyes met the fear and uncertainty he felt slipped away. “You ready to give Shiratorizawa what they’ve got coming to them?”

Iwaizumi clenched his fist at the mention of their enemy. After ten years of waiting, preparing, this was their chance, their shot to finally prove themselves. “We’ll show them. This is _our_ year.”

Oikawa’s lips twisted into a terrifying grin, one that promised to cause destruction without a second thought. “We’ll _ruin_ them.”

It wasn’t about becoming the best. That was never it. All that mattered was getting vengeance for what had been taken from them, fighting to finally dethrone the most powerful team after years of no one being able to even touch them. Winning was the only option.

Iwaizumi gripped Oikawa’s shirt tighter, his fingers pressing down on Oikawa’s back said that he would support him, fight by his side, and that together they’d finally end this. No words needed to be said to confirm that promise.

(Because they were always together, always by each other’s sides, never apart. They had crossed their hearts over a promise written in blood and punctuated with the utter decimation of a life they had once known, had thrown themselves into a new life where death was a commonality, survival a privilege. But they had only their goal in mind, only thought of their promises that drove them forward: to fight, to survive, to beat Shiratorizawa and pay them back for all that had been forcibly ripped from them. To win.)

No matter what it took, _they would_.

They looked up at the timer together. Thirty seconds.

Oikawa turned to face the rest of his teammates standing behind them, brushed his fingers against Iwaizumi’s forearm as he did. Their eyes met for a brief second, but reaffirmed everything they ever wanted to say: fight, live, win.

His eyes landed on his teammates—Hanamaki, Matsukawa, Kindaichi, Kunimi. All of them had put their faith in him, and he’d put his in them. “I’ll be counting on all of you, okay?”

As they nodded, Oikawa took a breath, calmed himself and focused on what was ahead. The timer hit zero, a loud blare of an alarm signaling that the Games were here.

With one last smirk, a determined look set in his eyes, Oikawa turned to face the arena, where the entrance had finally opened, ominously waiting for them to walk inside. “Let’s beat them all.” And he took a step forward, knew they’d all follow him.

This was their last chance. They’d take the crown for themselves, achieve everything they had ever hoped to, show everyone that this was their year and they should not be underestimated.

And as soon as his foot touched the ground of the arena, the Games had officially begun. 

…

Iwaizumi remembered his parents telling him about the Games years earlier. He didn’t really understand it back then—not until much, much later would he understand it. All he knew was that every summer there was a big event to watch and some kids actually chose to participate in that.

(Back then, he didn’t think that he ever would have been one of those kids. A quiet, normal life had seemed much more appealing to a child— _still_ was more appealing to him—but nothing ever worked out that way, did it?)   

Before all of this, they had been normal, led a simple and worry free life, were just two kids careless and only concerned with small matters like what they were going to do that day or where in the village they could wander off to.

If everything hadn’t happened the way it did, maybe the two of them could have—would have—kept away from this, wouldn’t have thrown themselves into a life where the Games was the epicenter, wouldn’t be driven forward by words like revenge, fight, survive.

Normalcy didn’t matter. Not for them, not anymore. Not when they found themselves in a situation that snatched their lives from their own hands. Everything was unstable, uncertain, didn’t belong to them anymore. They had lost any chance at obtaining normal, living and being normal, on that day when they were eight years old.

The Games had been established many years before they were even born. When the world had destroyed itself through violent and total warfare that caused the deaths of many, some had risen from its ashes, had worked tirelessly to build themselves—humanity—up again, if only to have a meager chance at survival and living a life that wasn’t as hellish as the one they had just been lucky enough to escape from. And it had been successful, they had lived, built themselves up again, thrived in peace. Everything was good, safe like most things are until human nature rears its ugly head, shattering any semblance of peace or normalcy.

Wars had broken out over power and control, over resources and territory. Many more people died. The fight for power consumed humanity, drove them to claw their way to the top by whatever means necessary. Eventually, so many deaths had caused those fighting to reconsider their stance. Of course, they couldn’t seem to make peace, so they developed a system to determine who held power, a supposedly fair and foolproof way to prevent more wars from occurring, a perfect system. The Games.

Each year, every village in the area sent their strongest teens to fight for them—the kids who enlisted in their village’s military many years prior to the actual summer they would get to fight in the Games. They either chose it for themselves, or their parents threw them into it as some chance at fame and glory, or they were recruited. Regardless of how they got there, they were expected to fight. A team of six. Each village’s fate depended on a team of six.

It was a competition that had become more and more sensationalized over the years to the point where people considered it a sport. They watched people they knew die and kill like it was nothing. The last team standing—whether from killing all the others or other teams quitting—won their village a year of holding complete power and control over all other villages and people in the area. And the first team that was either completely killed off or dropped out first, they suffered a punishment.

(Survival of the fittest was always burned into their brains. If you couldn’t fight and survive, then there was no place for you in this world. The weak were eradicated, the strong lived.)

The punishment was that the entire losing village was wiped out by the winning team. Most of its inhabitants were killed, but usually some escaped and fled to other villages. _That_ was what had happened to them.

…

The day had been hot, one of the hottest days of that summer. Like most summer days in their eight years together, Oikawa and Iwaizumi had spent the time outside, the sun burning their skin, sweat dripping from their faces. The day had culminated in Oikawa’s stupid idea to climb a tree—which he fell out of and cried about—and found Iwaizumi carrying his annoying best friend home on his back.

“You only scraped your knees and elbows. Quit being such a baby.”

Oikawa tightened his grip around Iwaizumi’s neck, leaned closer to his ear to talk. “I fell out of a tree, Iwa-chan! What if I can never walk again?”

The older boy sighed. Even though they were eight years old, Oikawa acted the same as he did when he was four: overdramatic and obnoxious. “I told you not to climb up there.”

“But you climbed up there!”

“I climb more trees than you, stupid. I’m better at it.”

“No way! I’m better at it, Iwa-chan! I’ll prove it tomorrow!”

Iwaizumi snorted. Oikawa always liked to prove he was best, hated being beaten at anything. And sometimes it was a real pain. “If you can keep from falling out this time.”

Oikawa poked him in the cheek. “Mean!”  

As they walked past their village’s training center, Oikawa’s grip around his neck tightened, and Iwaizumi turned his head to see what—or rather who—his friend was looking at.

A young boy stomped out of the building, while two other boys who always seemed to be in the first’s presence trailed behind him. The first boy’s brow was furrowed, his fists clenched, as he rounded on the two behind him, harsh words slipping past his lips.

“Looks like Tobio-chan lost his cool again,” Oikawa snickered. “I feel sorry for his teammates.”

Everyone in Kitagawa Daiichi knew of Kageyama Tobio, whether they were involved with the military or not. Kageyama was only six years old, but had been branded a genius at an even younger age when he scored highly on the qualifying exams required to enlist in the military. People spoke of him as a prodigy, called him the Kitagawa Daiichi’s one shot at victory. Despite his notoriety though, Kageyama was known to be demanding and frustrating to work with (probably because of all the pressure placed on him). Rumor had it that it had been nearly been impossible to find a team to fit with him.

Oikawa shifted on his back, leaned in toward the conflict. Immediately, he knew Oikawa planned to say something rude to make Kageyama even angrier, but Iwaizumi pinched his leg before he could.

“OW! Iwa-chan, what was that for?!”  

“You enjoy picking on a six year old way too much,” Iwaizumi pointed out when he looked away from Kageyama’s fight with his teammates.

Oikawa didn’t even bother to deny it, just hummed playfully as they walked past, left the scene behind them. “Do you think Tobio-chan is any good at climbing trees?”

“How should I know? Besides, it’s not like he’d have the time to do that anyway. He’s probably busy with more important stuff.”

Oikawa yawned, rested his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “I bet I’m better. I could beat him.”

“Don’t fall asleep there! You’re heavy!”

“I am not!”

After more squirming from Oikawa, and Iwaizumi threatening to drop him right there and go home without him, the two fell back into a comfortable silence. But there was a question nagging at him, so much so that he ended up blurting it out. “Do you regret not enlisting?”

“Mmm, not really,” Oikawa said. “I’d love to prove that I’m better than Tobio-chan, but I can do that in other ways, right?” He grinned brightly—Oikawa’s smiles could always light up the whole room and Iwaizumi kept it to himself that he loved seeing them.

“Right,” he agreed.

“Besides, you’ve seen the Games. That one guy got his arm cut off this year. That’s disgusting!”

Oikawa always sought to prove he was the best at something, always wanted to get better, and fought to improve at even the most trivial of things. Iwaizumi knew Oikawa, the military, and the Games were a combination that could create an eruption. And he was thankful that Oikawa chose a much calmer lifestyle, one where he wouldn’t break himself.

They were almost at their homes when everything came crashing down. A loud bang resonated in their ears, drew their attention behind them. The windows of one house had been shattered, while another had been hit with the explosive and caught fire.

Within seconds, Oikawa jumped off of his back, and they both stood side by side, frozen, just staring at what had just happened. Before either could speak, a crowd of people they did not recognize—tall and focused and emotionless—stormed forward, threw more objects to create fires and shot guns at houses, people, anything in their way. Screams grew louder and louder as this crowd moved forward.

Iwaizumi reacted first, grabbed Oikawa’s hand and pulled him away. “Run!”

They did, ran toward home as fast as they could, hoping that they would be safe there. Because home was safe. It had to be. It always was.

There were more fires, more shots, more screams, more destruction. There were bodies lying in the streets, blood everywhere, people running. The attackers just kept advancing from every direction. 

_They would be fine. They would be fine. They would be fine. Everything would be all right._

Suddenly, Oikawa halted, eyes wide as he looked at his home burning before him, a strangled cry escaping his throat as he let go of Iwaizumi’s hand and ran forward. “Mom! Mom!”

Iwaizumi stood, panting, gazing in horror at Oikawa’s mother on the ground, blood pouring from her stomach. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t—

“Iwa-chan! Help me!” Oikawa screamed desperately. “Help me!”

And in seconds, Iwaizumi was by his side, struggling to help him.

“Tooru, Hajime… both of you… run,” she choked out, eyes frantic. “Leave now!”

“No!” Oikawa cried, tears falling down his cheeks. “No! I’m not leaving without you! Where’s dad and—?”

“It’s too late. We knew it was coming, just not when…” Her bloodied hand gripped her son’s wrist tightly. “You have to go!”

Oikawa shook his head frantically. “I won’t!”

The woman he considered his second mother looked at Iwaizumi, eyes pleading with him. “Hajime… take Tooru and run. There’s not much time. Get out of here!”

Tears fell from his eyes. There had to be something they could do! There had to be some way to fix this!

But the gunshots and explosions behind him said otherwise, and after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded. “Tooru, come on!” He grabbed his friend’s arm, pulled on it frantically.

“I’m not leaving my mom alone here to die!” Oikawa pushed him away, struggled to escape his grasp.

The woman closed her eyes, breaths coming out even slower than before. But she reached up, her bloodstained hand cupping her son’s cheek gently. “Live. Promise me you’ll live. For all of us…”

“I… I promise…”

She smiled, weak and strained. “Take care of each other, okay? I… I love you… Tooru.”

His body shook with sobs. “I love you too!”

Iwaizumi looked to the right, saw more attackers advancing toward them. He yanked Oikawa up, dragged him away.

“Iwa-chan! I can’t leave her! I can’t leave her to die!” Oikawa struggled, tried to run back to his mother, to his home, but Iwaizumi kept his hold on him strong. 

“We’ll die too if we stay there! You promised her you’d live! You can at least try to keep that promise!”

With one last look behind him, Oikawa hung his head and ran forward, toward the edge of the village.

Tears ran down Iwaizumi’s face, clouding his vision as he thought about his own family. Where were they? Had they suffered the same fate as Oikawa’s? Had this morning really been the last time he would see them?

His questions were answered when they passed his own house down the street. He grimaced when he saw his father fighting with one of the enemies before a knife was plunged into his chest, when he saw his bleeding mother shoved into the burning house. His feet almost stopped moving, he wanted to run forward, to help them, to do something. But… but when he met their eyes, they told him to keep moving so he did, no matter how much he wanted to stop. He turned away in horror, felt sick at everything he had just saw, at what he could do nothing about. _I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry._

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa yanked him sideways, narrowly avoid a bullet. The shot barely missed them both.

“Tooru!”

“Run! Keep running!” Oikawa yelled, voice hoarse. “We’re almost there!”

They ran for the gate—right to where they knew there was a hole they could get through even though the gates were sealed shut—and frantically crawled under it. Just like that, they were out.

And with a glance behind them as they ran away from their home, Iwaizumi noticed the name on the enemy’s back. Shiratorizawa.

…

Finally, when they were far enough away, they stopped, collapsed to the ground, their chests heaving. In the distance, they could still see the village burning, smoke spiraling into the sky ominously.

“What was—?” Oikawa didn’t even have to finish his question before Iwaizumi spoke.

They hadn’t watch that year, didn’t care at all about what happened in the Games, not until now, but it was obvious what had happened. “The Games. That was Shiratorizawa.”

“We lost?” Oikawa asked, eyes wide. “That’s what that was?”

“That has to be it. I saw their jackets…”  

Oikawa punched the ground in frustration, glanced behind him at Kitagawa Daiichi again. After a moment, he stood, wiped the tears from his eyes, anger replacing the fear and sadness.

Iwaizumi looked up at him. “What’re you—?”

He clenched his fists, mouth twisting into an absolutely terrifying grin, one Iwaizumi had never seen before. “Iwa-chan, wherever we go now, I want to enlist. I want to _destroy_ Shiratorizawa. They’ll pay for this.”

Iwaizumi stood, moved to his best friend, the only person he had left’s side. “Absolutely.”

It was a promise branded onto them when they had watched their very lives fall apart in a matter of minutes. It was a promise written in the blood of their families. It was a promise that would be fulfilled whatever the cost.

…

Days later they wandered into a nearby village called Aobajousai. It was a lot bigger than Kitagawa Daiichi, a lot different. Neither Oikawa nor Iwaizumi had ever been outside of their own village, so they had never experienced something like this, a life so unlike theirs back home.

(This wasn’t home. This wasn’t home. This would _never_ be home.)

But hopefully, hopefully it was a place they could stay. At least so they didn’t have to keep running and looking around for somewhere to finally rest.

Oikawa ignored the strange looks people were giving them, gripped Iwaizumi’s sleeve tightly as they walked toward the training center. He was exhausted and dirty, devastated and furious, but he would not rest. Not until he was on the path he needed to be, not until it was an absolute guarantee that they had a chance to fulfill the promise they had made the night they lost everything.  

            _“Tooru… you’re sure about this, right?” Iwaizumi asked him earlier that morning. “Because if you are, I am too.”_

_And Oikawa had looked up, mouth twisted into a wicked grin. “I want them to lose, Iwa-chan. I want to be the one who beats them. This is the only way.”_

The destruction of their homes, the desire to defeat Shiratorizawa as revenge for taking everything from them—those were what sparked this burning desire, passion. It was what drove them forward, would continue to drive them forward.

(Oikawa’s flame was dangerous and bright and wild and _would not go out_. No matter what.)

They walked into the training facility, automatic doors sliding open, granting them entrance like a welcoming received by heroes who returned from war with blood on their skin, tears in their clothes, hatred in their eyes. It was only fitting: this would become their war.

Oikawa’s eyes widened, took in the sight of children not much older than himself, crouched low and ready to fight, hands gripping knives and aiming them at targets on the wall, bodies moving fast and furious and ready for war. And he knew he could do this. He could do this. This was what he wanted. In all the unfamiliar of this new place, he only knew the burning in his eyes, the ache in his chest, the twitch of his hands to practice and practice and practice until he could deal the same blows that Shiratorizawa had dealt to him.

“What’re you kids doing here?”

Iwaizumi nudged Oikawa, pulled him back to reality. A middle-aged man was looking down at them, more curious than angry, but still demanding of an answer.

So Oikawa gave him one. “We want to enlist.”

The man seemed taken aback, especially by Oikawa’s forwardness and confidence. “Where were you last month when we took applications and administered the tests? In fact… I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of you around before…”

“Because we just got here,” Oikawa said slowly.

“We’re from Kitagawa Daiichi,” Iwaizumi finished and it sounded kind of strangled—like he was having trouble getting the words out—and Oikawa wanted to grab his friend’s hand and let him know that he was here and that they still had each other and that they would be all right. But he couldn’t. Not here. _Not here._

(Because this wasn’t home.)

He settled for leaning closer, his arm brushing against Iwaizumi’s and conveying all that he wanted to. Iwaizumi would understand… he always did.

“Kitagawa Daiichi? You mean you got out of there?”

“Yes, and now we want to enlist.”

The man surveyed them for a moment, eyes softening the slightest bit as he looked down at them. But he shook his head and frowned. “Sorry. We’re already set with our members. And we don’t usually accept refugees as part of the military. I’m going to have to ask you to lea—”

“Irihata-san!” A young man strode forward, stopped in front of them. His right hand was made of metal instead of flesh. “What’s going on?”

“Mizoguchi… you should be working with the new team, not interrupting my business.”

“Right, right. I was just curious about what was going on. Who are these two?”

“They’re from Kitagawa Daiichi. They want to enlist.”

The blond raised an eyebrow, looking Oikawa and Iwaizumi over. “Oh? How old are you two?”

“Eight,” Iwaizumi supplied.

“We test at that age,” Mizoguchi explained. “It’s a lot different in Kitagawa Daiichi, isn’t it? They tested a lot younger. Kind of wears the kids out by the time they’re old enough to actually enter the Games. But I heard you guys have a pretty strong prodigy… oh… had. I’m sorry…”

“Can we enlist or not?” Oikawa asked impatiently. “If not, we’ll go somewhere else and—”

“I already told you that we have our team in place. You can’t expect us to tear apart a whole team for a pair of refugees who may not even—”

Mizoguchi leaned forward, eyes filled with interest. “Why do you want to enlist?”

Oikawa’s words flowed from his mouth without a thought behind them. “I want to destroy Shiratorizawa. I want to watch them burn. I’m _going_ to do it, whether you give me the chance to or not.”

Iwaizumi kicked Oikawa’s shoe, shooting him a glare. “ _We_ , stupid. We’re going to do that together.”

Irihata looked reluctant, while Mizoguchi looked impressed. The young man turned to the other, grinning. “Give them a test.”

“What? Why would you even suggest—?”

“We don’t get nearly as many recruits as we used to, Irihata-san! And none are as motivated as these two. That kind of determination can’t be stopped, just look at them.”

Irihata looked like he wanted to protest again, but Mizoguchi continued, “It will be harder and harder to continue skating by with the talent we have with the weaker villages getting wiped out every year. And it’s still early enough that we can adapt the team if they pass.”

The older man sighed, shook his head before looking back to Oikawa and Iwaizumi. “…Fine. Next week, they can take the entrance exam. If they pass, we’ll deal with it then.” He turned away, looked over his shoulder to address the blond. “You’re lucky I trust you, Mizoguchi. Don’t make me regret that.”

He smiled. “Of course, Irihata-san. I’m sure this will work out.”

“Yes, it’d better. I’m tired of watching Shiratorizawa win effortlessly every year.” And with that he was gone, leaving the young man alone with them.

“Thank you,” Iwaizumi muttered politely, but Oikawa just stared up at the strange man before them, thankful but suspicious.

“Why’d you help us?”

Mizoguchi laughed before looking down at his right hand— smile falling and expression hardening. If his glare had the power to burn a hole in the metal, it would have. “Because I know better than anyone else that watching everything you love be ripped away from you is the most powerful motivation you need.”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi looked at each other, but when they looked back Mizoguchi’s smile was there again, almost like it had never left. “You two are new to Aobajousai, right? Let me show you around and get you settled in. This is home now, after all.”

He walked away, expected them to follow him. And they did. Because this man was their ticket to Shiratorizawa.

But this _wasn’t_ home. Not yet, anyway. Maybe it could be, given time, but Oikawa didn’t think so. Home didn’t matter anyway. Not when his home was a pile of ashes and the charred bones of his family.

…

“What’s the point of these tests anyway?” Oikawa asked a week later as Mizoguchi led them through the training facility.  

“Ah, that’s right. I keep forgetting that you two don’t know how things work here.” Mizoguchi tapped his chin thoughtfully, as if he was trying to decide how to explain everything to them. “Well… every village does things differently, but the most common thing everyone does is to find a team leader, a Guide. The person who is the Guide is the one who scores highest on the entrance exam the village administers and they lead teams, make plans, and are the ones who call all of the shots in the arena. But then, to balance out the team, once the Guide is determined we run compatibility tests to see who on the team will be the Support Line.”

“Support Line?”

“Yeah, or SL like everyone else calls it. The SL is kind of like the second-in-command. They support the Guide and create a balance so there is more unity among the team and one person doesn’t have to take on all that pressure on their own. We run compatibility tests once the Guide is chosen to find the SL who will be best matched with them, and we help them develop a relationship so they become more in sync and suited to lead a team to victory. There are compatibility machines for that. They let the pair see into each other´s heads and develop a mental connection and bond.”

So there was the possibility that they had to take two tests, and even then, there was no guarantee that they would be able to be together. “What’s the test like?” Iwaizumi asked after a moment.

“It’s nothing big. Just uses simulations to test the responses you’d make in certain situations. Our philosophy is that finding someone with the right mind matters, and the physical skills can develop later.” Mizoguchi grinned at them. “So you don’t have to worry about having no physical training until now. If you’ve got the personality to be a Guide, it’ll show based on your responses to the simulations you’re in. Ah! Here we are!”

The blond pulled open a large metal door and ushered them inside. The room was cold and metal, gray and drab, filled with a bunch of machines whirring loudly as they warmed up.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi shared a look as they were brought into the room. This was it. This was their chance. To even get a shot at reaching Shiratorizawa, they had to overcome this first challenge.

“You two ready?” Mizoguchi gestured for them to get settled on the cots in the center of the room so they could be hooked up to the machines and the test could begin.

The two shared one last look before nodding at each other, a silent promise forming between them. They _would_ do this. Oikawa moved forward first, brushing his hand against Iwaizumi’s as he passed him, if only as a comfort to them both as they stepped into the unknown.

As soon as they were settled, Mizoguchi and another assistant in the room began to hook them up to the machines—cords coiled around their arms and chests, a weird helmet that only covered past their eyes placed on their heads.

While Mizoguchi worked quietly, Oikawa found himself staring at the man’s prosthetic hand with lots of questions forming in his mind. “Hey, Mizoguchi-san, you never did tell us how you got that hand.”

Iwaizumi nearly choked when the words left Oikawa’s mouth. “Dumbass Oikawa! You can’t just ask someone about something like that!” If Iwaizumi had been able to, he would have hit Oikawa—that was for sure. “You idiot, you—!”

Mizoguchi laughed, held up a hand and signaling Iwaizumi to stop. “It’s fine, Iwaizumi. I was wondering when one of you would ask anyway.” The man turned to look at Oikawa, the smile on his face looking dangerous and a little terrifying. It was a smile Oikawa was sure had been present on his own face before. “I’m not that old, you know. I was a Guide only four years ago, but I was left with this when Shiratorizawa beat us. Lucky to be alive, the doctors said. Sometimes… sometimes I don’t think so.”

Oikawa sucked in a breath, opened his mouth to say more, but Mizoguchi pushed the helmet down on his head. “Well, now you know what you’re getting yourself into. This doesn’t change your mind, right?”

“Of course not,” Oikawa spat, shrugging the man’s hand off of him. “I meant it when I said I want to destroy them.”

“Good. Me too. Let’s start the test then.” He was probably smiling again. Oikawa could hear it in his voice even though he couldn’t see with the helmet on. “Good luck, you two!”

And the next thing he knew, a white light surrounded him and everything in the room became nothing but a blur.

…

When he opened his eyes, Oikawa was standing in a dark room, the only thing facing him a dark screen with blinking green letters flashing before his eyes very quickly. He leaned closer to read what it said, found that the screen was instructing him to answer the questions that would be presented to him by tapping his choice. It said this was the first part of the test and that his results on this part would determine the events of the second part.

Well, there was nothing to be afraid of—not anymore, not when the worst had already happened—so he shrugged and tapped the screen to begin the test.

Some of the questions made sense and were easy to answer: (In a room there are three weapons. Would you choose the knife, the gun, or the bow and arrow?)  Others were more obscure: (There’s a fork in the road, would you choose the left path leading to the forest or the right path leading to the mountains?) And some made no sense at all: (Are you more of a talker or a listener?)

After he had answered a particularly difficult question the screen had gone dark. Frowning, Oikawa looked around, waiting for some kind of sign of what was to happen next. He tapped the screen again, suddenly feeling confined and impatient in this little room and he just wanted to finish. “Hello? Are we going to continue or what?”

As if an answer to his question, the room lit up—so brightly that he had to shield his eyes—and when he uncovered them he was standing outside, in front of a large forest. What was going on?

Looking around and waiting for instruction didn’t seem like it was doing very good, so he took a step forward. And another. And another. Soon enough he was walking through the forest, guard up as he tried to figure out what the point of this was.

The answer came when Oikawa heard a loud crack and looked to his left to see a gigantic tree falling. He cursed and jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding the tree as it slammed to the ground. When he stood, he looked around, noticing that more trees had fallen after the first, almost like a row of dominos, and he realized that getting through that way wouldn’t be a possibility.

Suddenly, a voice filled the area, sharp and shrill, instructed him to show how he’d get around the obstacle blocking his path. Oikawa felt something heavy next to his foot and found an axe sitting there, waiting to be picked up, while to his right a bunch of trees had cleared, creating a narrow opening to an even darker path that was open but filled with thorny vines he’d have to cut through. He had to choose which option he wanted.  

The obvious choice would have been to take the small path that had just appeared, but honestly, it made him rather uneasy. The other choice he could have gone with was to take the axe and make his way through the fallen trees. That would be difficult, but he was small enough still that he probably would be able to climb through most of the openings without having to use the axe too much. But that would take a lot more time than he would have liked to use.

After thinking about it for a moment, he picked up the axe, but did not move toward the pile of fallen trees. Instead, he went to his left and stopped in front of one of the still standing trees. It would be difficult to climb it, but if he could make it to some of the higher branches, then he would be able to see which path was the best to take.

The tree was thick and wide at the bottom—so much so that he wasn’t able to wrap his arms around the trunk to climb it—so he grabbed the axe and swung it as hard as he could, the metal cutting into the bark and lodging itself there. Oikawa pulled on it to test that it wasn’t going to budge before using the axe to hoist himself up. Once he was up there, he grabbed onto a nearby branch and climbed higher and higher until he was in a position where he could see across the area before him.

From what he could tell, the dark path was filled with thorny vines, twisting in every direction and ready to hinder anyone whose goal was to pass through. There seemed to be a patch of light at the end of the path though, but that light—which would have been impossible to see if he had stayed on the ground—illuminated shadowy figures, crouched low behind trees and bushes, weapons ready and poised to attack.

He glanced to the fallen trees, noticing from this angle that there really weren’t that many. It would be a hindrance, but the end of that path was clear and obviously his best bet at avoiding trouble.

So he swung down from his perch on one of the branches, his feet hitting solid ground moments later, and he yanked the axe from the tree and stepped forward to take the path of fallen trees.

The moment he began to climb through, the scene flickered before completely changing to a new area. The air was hot and heavy, but the land barren and obsolete. That was, until several large and jutted cliffs rose from the ground, continuing to form as the simulation completed loading. Oikawa noticed what looked to be a large body of water not far from where he was. Maybe a few feet. That was probably where he needed to go.

The moment he took a step forward, the ground began to shake. He would have been knocked off of his feet if he hadn’t grabbed onto the wall of the cliff next to him for support.

“Your task is to get past the monster and to the lake.” The shrill voice from earlier echoed loudly across the area. “The rule is that only you or your injured teammate can be rescued as long as the monster is still alive. Make your choice.”

Monster? Injured teammate? What was—?

“Help!” Oikawa turned, surprised to see a boy around his own age, sprawled out on the ground and clutching his leg. A knife was lying unused next to his injured body.

Before he even knew it, he was running, stumbling across the still-shaking ground to reach the boy. But a giant reptilian foot stamped down in front of him, blocked the path.

When Oikawa craned his neck upward, he realized that the shaking hadn’t been from an earthquake like he suspected. It was from this monster—tall and ugly and completely terrifying.

He was ready to run, to escape and try to think of a plan, but the monster didn’t even acknowledge him. Instead, it sniffed the air around it before moving toward the boy on the ground.

It would have been easy, so easy, to just turn and run and reach the lake. No trouble. He would be done with the simulation and that was that. But something nagged at him. It was easy, yes, but it wasn’t right to let someone else die so he could escape, especially someone who was a teammate. He was done watching people die—had seen enough of it to never want to see it again.

The voice had said only one could survive as long as the monster was alive, and he never wanted anyone to die for him—refused to let it happen. Those thoughts were what drove him to pick up a rock and throw it straight at the monster’s head.

It roared, momentarily distracted from the boy, turned in Oikawa’s direction, but paused—taking the chance to sniff the air again and seemingly listen. And that was when he saw it. The glazed over eyes. Blind. It couldn’t see.

To test, he threw another rock away from him, watched as the monster moved toward that. He took the chance and ran, dropped to his knees at the boy’s side. The boy was bleeding profusely from his leg and Oikawa pressed his hands to the wound. A quick glance behind him told him the monster had figured out the trick and would be back, moved closer and closer.

“Rip off part of your shirt and wrap it around that to stop the blood. I’ll take care of this and be back.” He grabbed the knife, ran forward, met the monster midway between where he had thrown the rock and where he had left the boy.

If he could get a good shot in the eye, he could take it down and work from there. He waited until he thought he had a good shot and threw the knife.

And it completely missed, bounced off of the monster’s snout instead.

“Dammit,” he cursed as he ran away and quickly tried to figure out what to do next. The monster was sure to—

He stopped when he noticed the monster wasn’t following him, and was instead enthralled by the fallen knife, sniffing the handle where Oikawa’s hands had left the boy’s blood. So it liked blood. Blood attracted it. That could work.

He picked up a small and jagged rock from nearby and used it to slice his palm open, wincing in pain as he did. Blood dripped from the cut, and he ran forward while the monster was distracted, smearing the blood from the wound in his hand along one of the cliff walls. This would be at least a bit of a distraction to throw it off. When he finished, he smeared some of his blood on a rock, then ripped off part of his own shirt to wrap around his hand so no more blood leaked out.

The monster was closer, so he threw the bloody rock as hard as he could so it landed right in front of it. Just as planned, the monster was distracted and began to follow the trail of blood he had laid out.

He ran toward the boy again, grabbed the discarded knife and cleaned it of any blood. The moment he arrived next to the boy, he helped him stand, pulled his weight onto his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

They moved forward quickly—or as quickly as they could—almost reached the lake before the monster caught them. Almost.

A pounding on the ground shook Oikawa’s footing, caused him to lose his balance, sent him and the boy flying in two different directions.

The fall had sent them right in front of the lake. But as long as the monster was alive, only one could escape. The boy’s wrapped injury had come undone, blood leaked from his wound and onto the rocky ground. That was what the monster went after.

And again, it would have been so easy to give up right then, but no, he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. _No more death. No more death. No more death._ Real or not, he didn’t want to see any more of it. 

The knife was right next to him. He picked it up and raced forward without a second thought, without hesitance. The monster leaned closer and closer to the boy, and if Oikawa didn’t move faster, he wouldn’t make it in time.

When he was close enough, he dove forward, hoped that this would work. He shoved his teammate into the lake and landed sprawled out on the ground. The monster lunged, its face getting closer and closer to his, sharp teeth ready to snap and end him. But he waited until its face was close enough and threw the knife with much better aim this time. A loud roar echoed through the air as the metal dug into the monster’s eye. Even with the hit to hinder it, its face still moved closer. It was angry and ready to end him right there. There was nowhere to go, so he put his hands out as if to push it away, screwed his eyes shut tightly.

Everything flashed white and the next thing Oikawa knew he was back in the room at the training center, breathing heavily. He sat up quickly, yanked the helmet off of his head and glanced around for any hint that this was real and not another simulation.

“Hey, what’re you so intense about?” The voice jarred him out of his thoughts, and he turned to his left, caught sight of Iwaizumi leaning against the cot, free of all the equipment that had been given to them. To anyone else, he would have looked indifferent, but Oikawa knew—always knew—how to pinpoint the concerned look in his eyes.

“Iwa-chan—” Oikawa’s voice caught in his throat as he tried to figure out if he truly was back in reality.

“You all right?” Iwaizumi moved forward, stepped closer to him so they were facing each other, so he was close enough to reach forward and brush their hands together. And it was then that Oikawa knew. This was real. _Real._ Completely real and unchanging and not going anywhere.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, finally let out the breath he’d been holding. “You finished before me?”

“Only a couple minutes ago. I—” Before he could finish, the doors slid open and Mizoguchi walked in, looking pleased, followed by Irihata, whose brow was furrowed, eyes surprised, and frown was not as deep as it normally was.

“You both did well,” Mizoguchi said with a smile. He seemed excited, leaned forward as he spoke to them. “And both of your tests were quite interesting to watch!”

“Did we pass?” Oikawa blurted out, the reason they were here in the first place finally back at the forefront of his mind.

“With flying colors! You both had two of the highest scores in years!” Mizoguchi looked to Irihata, face smug. “Anything to add, Irihata-san?”

“You both did much better than I expected. I’m impressed.” The man looked to Oikawa, eyes focused on him. “You’re quite resourceful. I’ve never seen someone react so quickly and creatively to those scenarios. Most people just choose the simplest choices, but you picked much more complex ones that went outside of the two main choices given.”

“Uh… thank you.”

“And… congratulations. You’re this new group’s Guide.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened for a second as he took in the magnitude of the words, but he quickly recovered, smiling slightly. He had done it. _They_ had done it. “You won’t regret choosing me, I swear.”

It was a promise he would ensure he kept.

…

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve taken two tests already and done fine.”

Oikawa had definitely been more subdued that Iwaizumi expected since the day before when they had been welcomed into Aobajousai’s military, since they had found out that Oikawa was to be Guide in the Games the summer they turned eighteen. But it had gotten worse once he had taken the compatibility test with two boys their age—Hanamaki and Mastukawa—and scored really highly with both.

Compatibility tests were essentially the same as the entrance exam, except it was taken with another person to test how well the two worked together. It was much easier, though, was mainly used to prove the pair’s ability to adapt to each other and work well enough to complete whatever task was given to them. It was something they easily could, _would_ , do well at.

“You should know it’s not about that,” Oikawa muttered. He sat on the floor of the exam room, knees drawn to his chest and arms wrapped around them, eyes cast downward as he spoke.

Iwaizumi turned to look at him. “If you’re worried about us testing, there’s nothing to worry about. We’ll do fine.”

“How can you be so confident?” Oikawa’s voice was quiet, almost but not quite a whisper.

“How are you not be? Mizoguchi-san said that people who have known each other for a long time usually score really high together.”

(Mizoguchi also said that he’d never seen anyone like Oikawa. Had never seen anyone who scored so highly with people he just met five minutes before their test, had never seen anyone so adaptable and able to draw out the potential of those he worked with.)

But that wasn’t something to think about. Not now, not when their own test was minutes away.

“Yeah, but there’s always the possibility that we don’t—”

Iwaizumi frowned. “Have some more faith in me, won’t you?”

Oikawa frowned, still didn’t lift his eyes from the floor. “It’s not you. It’s—”

“You?” Iwaizumi lowered himself, crouched down in front of the brunet. “Don’t give me that crap.”

Oikawa looked tired and worried and scared. They may have gotten what they wanted when they were accepted into Aobajousai’s military, but that didn’t change what happened. Didn’t change that they had lost their homes, their families. Didn’t change that they basically gave their whole lives to a place they had just arrived in and knew nothing about. All for a shot at Shiratorizawa, a chance to compete in the Games.

The week had been as hard as he had expected it to be. They had woken up in the night, terrified and hysterical, tears streaming down their cheeks as they were unable to see anything but blood and fire and an army that had come to lay siege on their once peaceful lives. Both had been unable to sleep alone, unable to prevent themselves from drifting toward each other, desperate hands reaching out and wanting—no, needing—to hold onto the only thing they had left. In only a week they’d gone from kids living ordinary lives to kids angry enough to throw themselves into this mess and fight until they got the revenge they so needed.

“W-what if we’re not?” Oikawa finally looked up at him, eyes scared, like he had been dreading this possibility.

Compatibility was a state of being. It was when two forces could coexist in complete harmony, when they were drawn together—to live, to be, to push forward. No machine could tell someone who they were meant to be with, who they were meant to have by their side.

(Besides, it wasn’t like they needed a machine to tell them the obvious anyway.)

But even if they didn’t score highly together—which he didn’t think was possible, but there was always a sliver of doubt to consider—they would still always remain by each other’s sides, would always be there.

But Oikawa didn’t seem to be buying that. He was caught up in doubts and worried that after all of this something further would cut in and prevent them from being together, from being at each other’s sides. _Right where they needed to be._

He had to do _something_ , wracked his brain for a solution. If Oikawa didn’t get out of this state of doubt and second guessing, then there was a possibility their score could suffer.

Without even really thinking about it, the words tumbled from his mouth, natural, truthful, meant only for them.  

“Who knows that you hate being cold because you went outside in the middle of winter without a coat when you were four?”

Iwaizumi’s words caught Oikawa’s attention. His brown eyes were confused, but he still answered the question softly. “You do.”

“And who knows that when you won’t look someone in the eye when they’re talking to you it means you’re trying not to cry? Or that you start leaning in toward a conflict with a stupid grin on your face the minute you want to pick a fight and then has to drag you out of it?”

“You.”

“Right.” He reached forward and unwrapped Oikawa’s hands from their tight grip around his knees, and took them in his own. “And who’s the only one who knows that even though I’ll hit you when you’re annoying, I like to hold onto you because you’re warm and make me feel safe?”

Oikawa smiled this time. “Me.”

“Who cares what some machine says, then? It doesn’t change that you and I know things about each other that no one else does or that we can read each other better than anyone else.” He squeezed Oikawa’s hands. “We’re going to be together. _No matter what_.”

And as soon as the words left his lips, Oikawa lurched forward, flung his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, hugged him tightly. The force nearly sent them both toppling backwards and into the metal table behind them.

“Idiot! Don’t do that when I’m not ready for you.” As soon as Iwaizumi caught his balance, he wrapped his arms securely around Oikawa’s waist, returned the hug.

(Whether he said harsh words or not, he still would always keep his grip on Oikawa tight, would keep them in the same orbit. And they both knew that they’d always be there for the other. Maybe that was what made them feel a little safer in this dangerous and unpredictable place.)

Oikawa ignored him, nuzzled his face into Iwaizumi’s neck, murmured a quiet thank you.

He didn’t have to say thank you. It was part of their own state of being for Iwaizumi to pull Oikawa out of the dark places he dwelled in. And he would continue to do so, always would continue to do so as long as they existed together, side by side.

They were still wrapped up in each other when the door slid open and Mizoguchi walked inside, a grin on his face as he took in the sight before him. “Are you both ready?”

Oikawa jumped up first, pulled Iwaizumi to stand beside him, their fingers intertwined. “Yes! You ready, Iwa-chan?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

And with one final look at each other and a squeeze of their hands, the promise between them was sealed. They _would_ be together. No matter what it took, no matter what they faced, they would take it all on together—would keep their fingers entwined and would never let go.

Because if existence meant a state of living, a state of being grounded in reality, then he couldn’t imagine one where he and Oikawa weren’t supposed to be together. 

…

The land they ended up in was cold and desolate and so very familiar. It looked like home. Their home. And that immediately threw them both off.

“Why are we here?” Oikawa whispered quietly.

“Don’t know.” Iwaizumi noticed the glassy look in his eyes—the fear—the way his forehead was creased in confusion, the beginnings of a grimace on his lips. He brushed his knuckles against Oikawa’s as if to say _“I’m right here. We’re together, we’ll be fine.”_

Even though this was the last thing either of them had been expecting, even though this was something that ripped open still raw wounds and beat bruised minds with memories better left forgotten, they would get through it. Together. Like always. They had to.

When he moved to take a step forward, Oikawa grabbed his hand, voice cracking as he spoke. “Iwa-chan—!”

Iwaizumi’s eyes followed where Oikawa pointed, took in the sight of fire and armies and death and destruction all surging straight toward them.

It was so familiar. Everything was so familiar that he knew exactly what they were supposed to do.

_Fight. Fix what you couldn’t before._

“Tooru.”

“I know.” The look in Oikawa’s eyes—hot and fierce and determined—told him that he realized the point of this too. Good, they were on the same page.

“We’ve gotta move.” He tugged at the other’s hand.

“Yeah.” And they moved away from the chaos, took shelter behind a nearby house to figure out what to do next.

“Five minutes, right?” They had a time limit to complete their task, five minutes to prove why they were the most compatible match.  

Oikawa nodded. “Probably about four now, though.”

Iwaizumi leaned forward, glanced around the corner to see a small group of soldiers walk by. Oikawa did the same, followed his gaze. And when their eyes met again, Oikawa smirked, his eyes dark and hungry. “I’ll draw their attention.”

Iwaizumi nodded and Oikawa moved forward, picked up a large rock from the ground before pulling out the knife he’d been equipped with at the start of the simulation.

This was a plan that didn’t require much thinking about—it fit what they usually did perfectly. Oikawa would plan, Iwaizumi would act; Oikawa would break, Iwaizumi would pick up the pieces; Oikawa would easily draw attention to himself and distract others, Iwaizumi capitalized on those distractions and struck. They were perfectly in sync with one another, could act based on a simple look or gesture, Oikawa the thought, Iwaizumi the punch.

This would be no different.

He watched as Oikawa whipped the rock at one of the soldier’s heads, and emerged from the shadows as soon as it hit its mark. And the moment Oikawa had the soldiers focused on him, had them enclosing on him and ready to attack, Iwaizumi struck.

The surprise brought the remaining three soldiers’ attention to him, which Oikawa used to attack another from behind. Two down, two to go. 

It had been easy to finish the rest. Iwaizumi knocked one soldier off his feet before immediately lunging for the second, while Oikawa took care of the first.

And without even having to say anything, they ended the fight together, just as their time limit drew closer.

“Wish there would have been more,” Oikawa muttered, tossing his knife to the ground as he looked at the scene distastefully. “Too easy.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be hard. It was supposed to test what we could do.”

“…Yeah.” Oikawa’s eyes were focused on the burning homes in the distance, the sights so similar to what they had experienced not long ago and he clenched his fist.

When he glimpsed the pain and the tears and the helpless look that flashed in Oikawa’s eyes—felt the same aching feeling in his chest, he knew. Knew that this simulation was personal for them both.

They wanted to do well for their own sake, but there was also something more behind it. This was their chance to get a taste of what revenge would feel like, but it was also something that brought a lot of unwanted and painful feelings to the surface. For the both of them.

And for a brief moment he wanted to punch Mizoguchi and Irihata for planning this simulation specifically _for_ them.

“I’m not letting anyone take anything from me ever again.” Oikawa’s voice was quiet, but a hard look replaced the broken one from before. It was a look that said he wasn’t fragile, that he wouldn’t break, that he wanted this. More than anything.

And Iwaizumi understood because he felt the exact same, felt every single thing Oikawa did, wanted this just as much. “Me too.”

Oikawa tore his eyes away from the fire in front of them. Their eyes met and said everything they needed to know. “You promise?”

The simulation faded away to nothing as he breathed out his answer. “I promise.”

….

“So, how’d we do?” Oikawa asked impatiently, as he sat up and yanked the equipment off of himself.

Mizoguchi grinned. “I’ll go out on a limb and say that it would be stupid to test anyone else.”

“Does that mean—?”

“None of the previous scores even came close to touching yours,” Mizoguchi explained. “It’d be a waste of time to try out anyone else when you two are obviously more compatible than most pairs are. You two did as well as I thought you would… even more so.”

“So we’re…?”

“Yep! You two will be seeing a lot more of each other from now on.”

Their eyes met. This was it. They had done it. No more worrying about being together was necessary because they would be, and they would do whatever it took to meet their goal.

“We did it,” Oikawa breathed out, leaning backward as if it was too much to take in.

Iwaizumi nudged his shoulder. “Told you we would.”

The beginnings of a smile, a real smile, appeared on Oikawa’s face. But before the smile even graced his lips, Mizoguchi brought their attention back to him.

“I just got a call that three others from Kitagawa Daiichi showed up here. They’re younger than you two. Maybe you know them.”

The look in Oikawa’s eyes suddenly became dark and focused, the smile that had almost been on lips seconds before completely gone with no evidence of ever even being there in the first place. “Who?”

“Kindaichi Yuutarou, Kunimi Akira, and Kageyama Tobio,” Mizoguchi answered. “And isn’t Kageyama the prodigy? If he becomes Guide for his year, your year will be his first time participating. We’d be unstoppable.”

Guides and SLs had to compete at least once before their own Games. It was a requirement, a preparation that they fought at least once before they could lead a team on their own. If Kageyama was to become Guide, their year would see on the same team.

Oikawa didn’t seem to be listening anymore. The moment Kageyama’s name had been mentioned, he had looked down at his lap, brow furrowed as he stared at his palms intently.

And Iwaizumi knew that this would make things difficult once again. Because just seeing the way Oikawa’s mood had completely changed with the mere mention of someone that could be better than him, that could overshadow him, he knew that this could become something dangerous and destructive and could completely throw off everything they had just worked for.

…

Strength was a funny thing—how it was viewed, how it was determined, how one saw it in themselves. Someone’s own strength could make them feel unstoppable, while someone else’s strength could make them feel inadequate. The problem was finding that perfect balance, finding that place where you could appreciate your own strengths but not constantly compare and feel worthless in comparison to someone else.

While strength was important, it could also make someone tear themselves apart—make them slowly chip away at themselves while they tried to keep up, to stay relevant.

Kageyama made Oikawa question himself, made someone who had been sure and determined and confident feel like nothing. It made sense, but at the same time, it didn’t. Why compare yourself to a teammate? Why feel like you’re in a competition with someone who shared the same goal of winning?

Maybe that was where the problem lied. Oikawa was so set, so determined to act upon the promise he made the day they lost everything that he probably didn’t want to let Kageyama pass him and take the one shot he had away. If Kageyama was in the way, a possible obstacle, then Oikawa wouldn’t stand for it. If Kageyama surpassed him, outshone him, he could be the one who took Oikawa’s opportunity, left him behind while Kageyama fulfilled the goal that Oikawa had initially set. He wouldn’t let someone take away his chance for revenge, his shot at it.

And in a weird twisted sort of way, it all kind of made sense. Because what was the point of all of this if Oikawa wasn’t the one to meet his own goal? It wouldn’t be worth it.

…

Even though they were on the same team, were supposed to be working toward the same end, Oikawa viewed Kageyama as a threat, as someone who jeopardized his plans and chances to succeed. Because he was better, could easily overshadow him in skill level, could become the one who could do things Oikawa couldn’t.

Those feelings he held made it so easy to make digs and nasty comments. It was a way of guarding himself, of making him feel better. Because dragging Kageyama down did, in a weird way, make him feel like he was the one on top. It soothed the ache in his chest left by nearly four years’ worth of insecurities and stress. 

In the end, Kindaichi and Kunimi may have been the ones who placed the crown on Kageyama’s head, but Oikawa was the one who instigated their insurgence. He’d noticed the problems the three of them had, remembered the start of it even as far back as when they were in Kitaiichi, and made a few nasty comments that were at first really only meant to hurt Kageyama, but really resonated with Kindaichi and Kunimi.

When it got to the point where their trio split into two, an obvious line in the ground separating them, it hadn’t been surprising to hear a statement like “It’s him or us, your choice,” spoken as a thinly veiled threat. After a threat like that, it wasn’t surprising to see Kageyama gone without a trace a few days later. 

Maybe he should have felt bad, felt some sort of twinge of guilt. But he didn’t. Not really, not when Kageyama’s departure brought him relief.  

A moment’s relief was better than no relief at all. For a brief time, he was able to escape the pressure that came with Kageyama gaining on him, poised to overtake him. But… in what might have been karma—a cruel twist of fate where even more odds were stacked against him—all those feelings came back even stronger when he met Shiratorizawa’s newest weapon.

…

“You want to go and watch this year?”

Oikawa nodded. “Yeah. I know you usually only let the older ones go, but if this kid is so good and our age I want to see it in person.”

Irihata sighed. “I don’t see why not. Just don’t cause any trouble.”

“Of course not!” Oikawa grinned. “And if I do, Iwa-chan will keep me in line. Right?” He was met with a kick to his ankle, and scowled. “I didn’t mean right now…”  

When Irihata left, Oikawa felt the familiar pressure of Iwaizumi’s hand on his back, and turned to look at him.

“What’s up?”

“Just curious,” Oikawa explained. “Whoever this is will be the youngest person ever to participate in the Games, and he’s our age, which means we’ll have to face him when it’s our turn.”

“Unless he dies,” Iwaizumi said flatly. “You can’t tell me going into the Games six years before it’s even your year isn’t taking a stupid chance. He’ll probably be a target.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but if he is as good as they say, then we might as well see it for ourselves now and know what we’re up against.”

Iwaizumi frowned, but agreed. “You’re worried, aren’t you?”

“Not at all.”

He rolled his eyes. “Liar.”

Most of the time, Oikawa never had to say anything for Iwaizumi to know exactly what was the truth. And sometimes, it scared him how well Iwaizumi knew him—how well they knew each other. It made sense though, because only someone that was allowed to see all of him should have the right to be able to understand him like that.

Even though it was pointless to lie or say otherwise, Oikawa still laughed. “Awfully presumptuous, aren’t you, Iwa-chan?”

“Presumptuous, my ass.” He punched Oikawa’s shoulder. “You’ve been stressing yourself out again!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he assured him. “Let’s go, okay?”

There was truth to it, though. When Kageyama left, Oikawa had calmed, had slowed himself down for a little bit. And even though that fear of being surpassed, of not being able to accomplish what he had set out to do still weighed him down, at least he no longer had to worry about it coming from someone who was on his team  

But whoever this mysterious new competitor was and what he could do… that worried him now more and more every day.

…

His name was Ushijima Wakatoshi. He was twelve and Shiratorizawa’s SL. He wasn’t just good, he was _amazing_.

It was his first time in the Games, he was the youngest competitor ever, but he made everything he did look effortless, like he belonged there, like the only purpose he had in this world was to fight and kill and win. Survival wasn’t a privilege for him—it was a guarantee.

As Oikawa watched with wide eyes and clenched fists one clear thought stood above the rest: _How can I compete against that?_

There was no way he could, no way he could win—not at the level he was at then. Oikawa may have worked hard, may have been able to pull a team together to work together as a cohesive unit rather than a bunch of individuals, but he was still _human_.

Ushijima Wakatoshi was a god. And in a world filled with gods and kings—geniuses who stood high out of his reach, who he could maybe get close enough to overtake but never completely would—how could he even compare?

“What the hell?” Iwaizumi muttered from next to him as they watched that year’s Games finish. It was the shortest one in history—only a day and a half.

“I was thinking the same thing.” Oikawa shook his head, looked away from the scene before him. 

Holding out hope that Ushijima would die before it was their turn probably wasn’t a viable option. It took a lot of work to bring someone like that down. And he wasn’t sure if he could ever reach that level, no matter how much he worked at it.

…

It had been Oikawa’s idea to seek out Ushijima after the Games ended, before they went back to Aobajousai. Well, it hadn’t been much of an idea. It was more like a quick and impulsive decision that had his feet carrying him forward before he even really realized what was happening.

He didn’t even really know what he wanted out of this, he realized, when he called out to catch Ushijima’s attention, “Hey!”

“Idiot! Stop it!” Iwaizumi had followed Oikawa, ready to do damage control the minute things got bad. He grabbed Oikawa’s arm, stopped him from moving any closer.

Ushijima turned, looked them over with a blank stare from eyes that looked dead. (Was that what happened after the Games? Was that what they did to people?)

As soon as Ushijima’s attention was on him, Oikawa didn’t know what to say. “We’re going to beat you” sounded like an empty threat, probably a joke to someone who had just wiped out the entire competition in less than two days.

In the end, he didn’t have to say anything—Ushijima did first. “You’re Oikawa. From Aobajousai, right?” His voice was flat and everything about him screamed uninterested, but the little spark in his eyes that was almost unnoticeable said otherwise.

“Who told you that?”

He shrugged. “People talk. They said you got the highest score they’ve seen in years. I heard some people say that they think you’re Aobajousai’s best shot at winning.”

Oikawa froze, taken aback by words like that. People expected that much of him? They had that much faith in him? He recovered quickly, though. “Of course they would. We’re going to win, after all.”

“Well, I don’t believe it.”

Oikawa glared at Ushijima, eyes darkening at the blunt words. “Why not? If people think I could, then—”

“Because you’d have to get through me first, and that won’t happen.”

“You shouldn’t be so confident,” Iwaizumi said, finally joining the conversation. “Don’t underestimate us.”

“Oh… you’re his SL, right? I’ve heard about you too. Your compatibility score was really something.”

“How the hell do you know all of that?”

“It’s not like much is a secret around here. Not when people brag about how they’re going to win all of the time.” Ushijima leaned back against the wall, looked bored as he directed his attention back on Oikawa. “I think you’re wasting your talent, though. You’d be much better off somewhere that could make full use of you, and you’d have a better chance at winning and survival. Why stick around for a place like Aobajousai? Stupid, if you ask me.”

“Well, no one did.” Oikawa wanted so badly to take him down. Ushijima and Shiratorizawa were one and the same, and he wanted to win, wanted to prove that their efforts weren’t as fruitless as Ushijima passed them off as. 

“Then what are you here for? I’m sure your intention wasn’t to introduce yourselves to your competition.”

“I wanted to tell you that you’d better be ready for us. Don’t get too comfortable at the top, Ushiwaka-chan. Because we _will_ win.” And Oikawa smirked because for the first time, Ushijima seemed to be affected by something he said—the bored and cool exterior falling away for a brief moment.

“Well then, I look forward to it. I hope you’ll be able to keep that promise.”

“Oh, I will. You’ll remember that when I’m the one who kills you.”

More people were starting to crowd into the cramped and dim hallway. “Let’s go,” Iwaizumi said, pulling Oikawa’s arm.

“Okay.” It wasn’t until they were almost out of Ushijima’s sight that he heard it.

“Hey!”

Oikawa turned, surprised that Ushijima was calling for his attention. “What?”

“If you ever stop deciding to waste your time with Aobajousai, you’d be welcome at Shiratorizawa. Your talent would be better utilized here and you’d have a better chance of surviving.”

Oikawa laughed loudly at his offer. Unbelievable. This guy was unbelievable. “No way! That’s something I never want. I’m going to destroy you.” He turned away, shoulders still shaking with laughter, and grabbed Iwaizumi’s arm. “Iwa-chan, let’s go.”

“Yeah.” They walked away, didn’t look behind them again.

Ushijima was presumptuous to assume that Oikawa was stuck in this situation, held there by some force that wasn’t his own. It was the complete opposite of the truth—he was there by his own choice, had sought this life out with one goal in mind and would let nothing get in the way of that. Someone like Ushijima probably couldn’t even comprehend Oikawa’s reasons for doing this, but he didn’t have to explain himself to anybody.

When they were finally away from Ushijima, Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi, who had been relatively quiet the whole time. “I’m surprised you haven’t hit me yet. For causing trouble, I mean.”

“Are you kidding? That was too enjoyable to hit you for.”

Oikawa smiled. “We’ll show him.”

“Of course we will. He won’t even know what hit him.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” They shared a smile, and it briefly pushed away the fear of not being ready, of not being good enough to act on all of the promises he made. 

But no matter how much he worried that he couldn’t compare to Ushijima, he would try. He would try and make himself get better and better until he could stand on that level. Because once he did reach it, there was nothing that could stop him.

…

Three years flew by, each passing summer brought them closer and closer to what they wanted to achieve. No longer were they idealistic little kids who blindly threw themselves into this situation. They still knew exactly what they wanted, but understood that it wasn’t going to happen without them working for it. So they practiced and practiced and got better and stronger—had become able to pull their own team together and stand out as something worth noticing, worth watching out for. A threat.

But passing time also signified another change, one that was deeper than it had been with only Kageyama as a threat. Ushijima triggered something in Oikawa, something that made him feel pressured to get stronger, had caused Oikawa to start completely overworking himself and letting all of the stress and pressure bog him down to the point where his faults were all he saw. Every day marked Oikawa staying later and later to train to the point of exhaustion, to the point where he had been so focused on his task that he had injured himself a few times. And all of this was placing a major strain on not only their own relationship, but the whole team’s dynamic.

Iwaizumi stayed back one night when Oikawa had said he was staying late to train extra, promising that year’s Guide, a girl named Ayako, that he’d take care of this—once and for all.

He hadn’t been expecting to walk in and find Oikawa hunched forward and breathing heavily, body tense with frustration as he threw the knife he’d been throwing at a target to the ground furiously.

“Fuck!” Oikawa drew his fist back to punch the metal wall in his anger, but Iwaizumi was by his side in a second, caught his arm before he could do any damage.

“What the hell are you doing, dumbass?!” He let go of Oikawa’s arm, shoved him backwards. “You can’t fucking get hurt right before the—”

Oikawa scoffed. “Like it matters? What kind of use am I if I’m not strong enough? If there are others who are stronger than me, what help will I be?”

Iwaizumi sighed, frustrated and angry and so tired of this same conversation they’d been having over and over recently. “You need to stop.” He reached out to take Oikawa’s arm and forcibly remove him from the training facility if he had to, but Oikawa ripped his arm away, refused to stay in his grasp.

“I _have_ to practice if I want to stand any chance.”

“Do you really think practicing until you’re exhausted is helping anyone? Do you really think you’re helping the team if you’re so caught up in yourself?”

Oikawa looked frantic, eyes wild and desperate. “It doesn’t matter! I have to get stronger and—!”

 _That_ was it. He leaned forward, grabbed Oikawa’s shirt roughly and pulled him closer. “Do you hear yourself? This isn’t about just you! We’re a team—there are six of us on a team. It’s not just you! It’s never been just you!”

“But—”

“You sound like a selfish bastard saying that the rest of us don’t matter. You’re not the only one who wants to win. We all do, and are here to support you. It’s not all on you!”

Oikawa looked down, refused to meet Iwaizumi’s gaze. “What’s _wrong_ with me?” It was a desperate plea, a question filled with so much uncertainty and fear, Oikawa’s voice cracking as the words tumbled out. It was a question that voiced everything he had been feeling: what if he wasn’t strong enough? What if they couldn’t win? Then what?

And as much as he hated that Oikawa thought he was on his own in all of this, he understood. Because there was so much pressure. Their teammates, the whole village, even people from other villages, had been talking about, waiting even, for their year—when Oikawa would be the one in charge, would be the one to determine their fates. Everyone, even people he had never met, had hopes resting on him, and that was bound to make a person crack eventually.

(But he should have known that he didn’t have to take that burden all on his own. He _never_ had to.)

“Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with you.” Without a doubt in his mind, Iwaizumi was sure Oikawa saw Ushijima, Kageyama, anyone who made him feel completely insecure and worthless, was comparing himself to them and agonizing over not being good enough. “You’re fine as you are.”

“W-what?” Oikawa’s head snapped up like he wasn’t expecting to hear those words. “Iwa-chan, if I can’t get stronger then what’s the—?”

He tightened his grip on Oikawa’s shirt. “Dumbass! So what if you’re not Ushijima or even Kageyama? That doesn’t matter! None of us want them! None of us put our faith in them! Even if you’re not as strong as they are on your own, you can do things that they can’t. You’re strong in your own way. And the only way we’re going to stand a chance at this is as a team, not with only you against everyone else.”

For a moment, he was worried his words hadn’t gotten through—like all of the other times he had tried to talk sense into Oikawa—but this time, the other looked at him intently, the wild emotions in his eyes from before much calmer.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Oikawa rested his hands over Iwaizumi’s, held them for a second until Iwaizumi loosened his grip on Oikawa’s shirt. “Okay.”

He was surprised to hear an agreement that quickly. “Okay?”

“Yeah. You’re right. There’s no way I could win on my own. And I get that now. We’ll win. All of us. Together.”

Iwaizumi scoffed, finally let go of the brunet’s shirt. “It’s about time you saw it that way.” He was relieved, though. It looked like a heavy weight had been lifted from Oikawa’s shoulders, like he was calm and finally understood what they had to do together rather than on his own.

Oikawa smiled the slightest bit, pulled back and straightened up. But he cringed when Iwaizumi punched him hard in the stomach. “OW!”

“ _That’s_ for being an idiot!”

“I’m sorry. Really, I am…”

With a sigh, Iwaizumi stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Oikawa’s neck. Oikawa tensed for a moment, but then relaxed, leaned his head against Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “I get it, you know. I do. Just don’t let all of those things get to you. We’re here for the same reason, and we’re going to win. I’m not going to leave you on your own.” 

“You promise?” Oikawa mumbled, voice muffled against his shoulder.

“I promise,” he declared forcefully as he thought back to things better left unsaid—everything they had lost on that day, the determination not to lose anything else.

“Iwa-chan, thank you.” Oikawa hugged him tighter. “Thank you for that. Thank you for everything…”

“It was for your own good, dumbass. You don’t have to thank me…” _For any of it. You never do._

(Because he wanted to be there, wanted to remain by Oikawa’s side. He needed Oikawa just as much as Oikawa needed him.)

“I mean it, you know.”

“I know you do.”

Oikawa pulled back, eyes much calmer than before, but a little wide, somewhat scared. “Will… will you stay? Tonight, I mean…”

It wasn’t something he even needed to think about. “Of course I will. Come on, let’s go. You need to rest.”

…

He wasn't really sure when something had changed. Well, sort of changed. Their relationship was still steady, stable, supportive, as give-and-take as it had always been. But it felt like there was some sort of void there, like there was something he wanted but wasn't sure how to say it or act on it.

Everyone knew that Guides and SLs had extremely close relationships. Honestly, how could they not? Being compatible with someone meant knowing their ins and outs, their ups and downs, _everything_. And even then, they had another advantage. They had known each other for years before, knew enough about one another where they were able to work in harmony, in sync, as two halves of a whole. They already had such an intimate bond, and working to further foster that initial compatibility and immense trust they shared only shifted their relationship more.

Thinking of Iwaizumi as anything but his best friend, his support, his partner had lingered at the back of his mind before. It always had, honestly. But he had never felt it so strongly, never wanted it so badly, until recently.

“You’re as good at lying as I am, you know,” Oikawa murmured quietly as they lay in bed together early one morning, sunlight creeping in through the window. This—spending the night together—had become a common occurrence as the Games drew closer and closer. Maybe because it was a comfort, a reassurance, maybe because it promised safety—whatever the reason, it was welcome.  

Iwaizumi rolled over to look at him, eyes surprised at the almost random comment. “What’s that supposed to mean? Have I ever lied to you?”

“Not explicitly…”

“So implicitly?”

(When they were close like this, looking at each other with nothing in between them—no fears, no insecurities, no lies—was when Oikawa felt his heart start to race the most. The quiet moments made him think, made him wonder what he really wanted.)

And the answer was obvious. So, so obvious.

“You always act so strong, like nothing fazes you. And… and you don’t have to… not for me.”

He poked Oikawa’s side. “It’s selfish assuming it’s all about you, isn’t it?”

“Then you admit it’s true?”

Iwaizumi shrugged, looked away from him. “What good does letting it overtake me like that do?”

Sometimes Oikawa wanted to shake him, to tell him that there was nothing wrong with being scared. “I’m just saying that you can depend on me like I depend on you. It’s not one-sided and I don’t want you to be alone and—”

He sighed, and pulled Oikawa to his chest, hand cradling the back of his head gently. “I _do_ depend on you. Just differently than you depend on me.” His hands were warm, familiar as they trailed through Oikawa’s hair. “And I’m not alone. We’ve been by each other’s sides through everything.”

Oikawa could feel the heat of his skin, the rise and fall of Iwaizumi’s chest, the racing of his own heart. And he wondered when it had gotten to this point, when he had fallen this hard.

“Hajime…”

He seemed surprised to hear the soft voice speaking his own name, and when their eyes met, whatever he had been about to say froze on his lips. “…Tooru…”

Oikawa wanted to scream that he loved him, that he needed him, that the only way to fill this painful void in him was through each other. And he had the overwhelming urge to indulge, to be selfish and lean up and kiss him. Kiss him hard until they forgot everything but each other.

But he was afraid to do that. Being like that was a possibility, not a promise.

(In all of this, didn’t they deserve at least a shot at being happy? At least a little?)

“I am scared, you know.” Iwaizumi’s words broke him from his thoughts. “About all of this. I’m scared we won’t be able to win, of losing you, of dying. I was scared that you’d keep pulling further away and wouldn’t hear reason… that you’d self-destruct. I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

“You won’t,” Oikawa said, determined. “I’m not going anywhere. Neither of us are going to die.”

“Promise. Promise me you’ll stay.” 

Like always, Iwaizumi knew—knew what Oikawa needed to hear, what they both needed to say. Oikawa was usually the one who asked for confirmation on promises, mainly as a way to reassure himself. But Iwaizumi asking was different. It confirmed everything they needed to know—that they needed each other, that they’d get through this all together—truly sealed every promise they had ever made to each other.

“I promise.”  

And damn, he really wanted to kiss Iwaizumi, to have all of him to himself without one single fear or regret.

_But he didn’t._

(The most broken people would be harmed them most if the promises they asked for were obliterated. But sometimes it hurt worse to have no reassurance or safety at all than it was to have whispered and sincere promises that had a very strong possibility of being broken.)

…

A month. There was a month left. Every passing day, Iwaizumi could feel his nerves, but also the anticipation of it all. They’d only ever watched the Games, never knew what it was like to actually be there, but they both would agree that they were ready for their chance. This was their first shot at taking on Shiratorizawa, a taste of what was to come.

They had to make it count.

As the time got closer and closer however, he noticed a definite change in their relationship. They spent even more time together than usual, spending nights in each other’s apartments and days training together.

He wasn’t completely sure when he started wondering what it would be like to touch Oikawa as more than a friend, to kiss him, but the thought clouded his mind often. Why, he didn’t know. The only explanation he could think of was that the pent up fear that these could be their last days together, that they could very well be killed before it was even _their_ year, was making him think of something he wanted other than winning.

Guides and SLs were known to develop romantic relationships over time. It was almost inevitable, in many cases. It was normal, was expected a lot of the time.  

But still, taking that step could hurt. And that was even if Oikawa wanted something like that.

Oikawa wasn’t easy to read. It took a lot of work and practice with his moods for Iwaizumi to understand him as well as he did. (That, and he had actually seen inside his head before with the compatibility machine used to help strengthen their connection.)

But something more unclear and up to chance was harder for him to get a handle on. Because damn, Oikawa sent mixed signals. One day could be filled with tender, warm, affectionate moments, their hands brushing, their words soft and meant only for each other. Others saw Oikawa indulging the group of girls that followed him around and basically worshipped the ground he walked on, agreeing to go out with them. That could have been to fuel his ego, sure, but there was a lingering doubt in the back of his mind. So he didn’t do anything, didn’t act on a feeling when he wasn’t sure where it would go. 

Maybe being so dependent on someone wasn’t a good idea. He knew Oikawa depended on him all of the time, and likewise, he counted on Oikawa to be there. They were each other’s support, each other’s solace. If anything happened to change that…

No, he didn’t want to think about that. That _wouldn’t_ happen. They were going to get through all of this—together. Whether it was as friends, partners, or something more than that, it didn’t matter.  

…

Iwaizumi cracked an eye open when he felt two arms slip around his waist and a familiar warmth pressed against his side.

“Dumbass, what’re you doing?” His insult was less angry than it would have been if he wasn’t still so tired.

Oikawa buried his face in the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck, nose brushing against his skin. “Sorry, Iwa-chan. I didn’t mean to wake you.” His breath was warm, and Iwaizumi felt heat creeping up his neck and face.

It was only because Oikawa was always so warm though, and chose to pass that on by clinging to him. Yeah, it was definitely that. Nothing else.

“Why are you here? It’s the middle of the night.” Almost involuntarily, like it was a natural reaction, his fingers curled in Oikawa’s hair. “I thought you were going out tonight.”

“I like it better here,” Oikawa said offhanded, distant, completely ignoring the last bit Iwaizumi had said. It was a tone that Iwaizumi knew well, the one where Oikawa was trying to hide something.

He groaned and sat up, ran a hand over his tired face to wake himself. These were the times that dealing with Oikawa usually took the most of his focus, much different than the usual easy flow between them.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa protested. “I was comfortable and—” His whines caught in his throat when Iwaizumi turned to look at him with hard eyes asking more questions than he could hope to word.

“Tooru, what’s wrong?”

The brunet pulled his hands away from Iwaizumi, rested them in his lap and stared intently at them. They were hands that had the power to saves lives and end lives, hands with much more power than one person should have to bear. “It’s nothing.”

“Liar. You think I can’t tell when you’re keeping something from me? Spill it.” He supposed this was why the relationship between them worked. If there was no one to be blunt and set Oikawa straight, then Oikawa would stay behind his mask indefinitely.

Oikawa chewed on his lip, and Iwaizumi thought he would have to repeat himself, but finally he spoke. “We have a month left, you know?”

Of course he knew. He remembered it every single day. But was that what Oikawa was acting so strangely about?

No. For a normal person, that would be a believable concern, but for Oikawa it was completely different, like everything with him was.

Oikawa wouldn’t be concerned about actually participating in the Games. Nerves and fear were inevitable, but they would never make Oikawa quit or stay stagnant. Not when he had waited for this for so long, had driven himself to the point of madness so many times in anticipation for this chance. Some might say he had gotten cold feet, but Iwaizumi knew better. If anyone knew of the burning passion in Oikawa’s eyes, the way he stood tall and determined and unwavering when the mere thought of defeating Shiratorizawa overtook his mind, then they’d know that the thought of entering the Games was the oxygen to Oikawa’s fire. It fueled him, kept him going, and sometimes made him uncontrollable, uncontainable, unreachable.

“That’s not what you’re worried about though, is it?”

After a moment, Oikawa nodded slowly, and Iwaizumi waited patiently for him to say more. Sometimes, pushing Oikawa was the best method to get anything out of him, but other times—times like these when Oikawa seemed like a wide-eyed and innocent child who wasn’t sure how he got dragged into this mess in the first place—those were the times that it was best to let him open up on his own.

“I don’t want to regret anything.”

“Huh?”

“If there’s a chance that I could die, then I want to die knowing that I did everything I could and that I always went after what I wanted. I want to do something for me. And even if it’s stupid, I can’t keep it in anymore.”

“What are you saying?”

Oikawa frowned. “That girl I went out with earlier broke up with me.” He laughed bitterly, but honestly didn’t seem that upset about it. “Said it was obvious I had a lot of other stuff on my mind. And… and it made me realize that I’m just sitting here. That I keep dancing around what I actually want and every time I do I risk the chance of losing that every single day.”

Iwaizumi groaned and banged his forehead against his drawn up knee. Were they seriously having this conversation about a girl? “I can’t believe you’re asking me about a girl. If that’s what you want, then go after her. You should get to be happy, right?”

The words burned in his throat, felt wrong to say, and the thought of Oikawa with some girl hurt more than he’d like to admit. It was bound to happen one day, so why did he have such trouble coming to terms with it? Yeah, he had thought about him and Oikawa, but had resigned himself to the fact that they didn’t necessarily _need_ to be together like that. As long as they had each other—

A warm hand on his arm drew Iwaizumi out of his thoughts, and he lifted his head from his knee, met Oikawa’s eyes. They were intent, focused on Iwaizumi, but there was something else behind Oikawa’s fixed gaze. Nervousness?

As Iwaizumi opened his mouth to ask a question, Oikawa spoke, blunt nails digging into his skin, “Iwa-chan, you’re stupid.”

“What do you mean I’m oof—” His words were drowned out by Oikawa’s lips on his own. Their noses bumped when Oikawa leaned forward, and the angle was painfully awkward—Iwaizumi’s head twisted sideways, while Oikawa sat on his knees at the edge of the bed almost falling into him.

It was funny, he thought, how Oikawa could make things look easy (quick to learn and eager to practice counted for that), except the first time Oikawa ever tried anything it turned into a mess, jumbled and awkward. He’d watched Oikawa fall out of trees the first time he tried climbing them, watched him nearly take someone’s ear off the first time he threw a knife, and watched him fall flat on his face the first time he tried to fight someone. It was only fitting that the first time he kissed Iwaizumi it was clumsy, with too much force and almost all teeth as they nearly toppled off of the bed.

And he realized that this awkward kiss embodied everything about their relationship. Unpredictable and uncontrollable, unthinking and unseeing, but also gentle and stable, affectionate and warm. Oikawa’s lips felt like home, like a home they had built together, where they would always be at each other’s sides.

Oikawa pulled back first, bit his lip. He looked afraid, like he had when he was worried that they wouldn’t be declared compatible enough to work together as Guide and SL.

Iwaizumi wanted to reach out and grab him and shake him, to tell him that there was nothing for him to worry about. Not with him, never with him.

“Was that all right?”

“Yeah.” And Iwaizumi leaned forward and pressed their lips together again.

Their kiss was much better that time, easier, like it was something meant for them. Oikawa leaned back, pulled Iwaizumi on top of him. They were breathless, arms tangled around each other when they pulled apart for breath, foreheads resting against each other’s.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Oikawa murmured before kissing him softly again, a quick brush of their lips.

“Should have done it sooner, idiot.”

Oikawa laughed softly. “You’re mean, Iwa-chan. You just got to kiss me, you should be honored—ow!”

He pulled back after flicking Oikawa’s cheek, moving to lay next to him instead and tangled their fingers together. “It was obviously a moment of poor judgment. I take it back.”

“You can’t take it back! That’s not how kissing works!”

Things felt easier, suddenly, like for a moment they were still stupid kids who spent their days pulling dumb stunts and not worrying about anything. This didn’t feel like they were hurt or jaded or afraid, just _there_ , together. _Normal_. Like they should have been. It was nice.

Suddenly, Oikawa rolled over onto him, touched his face gently. “Iwa-chan, can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“I know it’s been a long time since we’ve practiced with the compatibility machine, but there’s an old one in the center of the prefecture, where we’ll be the night before our Games.”

They hadn’t used a compatibility machine in almost three years. They were really only needed until a certain point in time because their purpose was to strengthen the bond between those using it. It let them into each other’s heads, let them see what the other was thinking, feeling, helped them develop a more in sync relationship. It made it easier to work together when someone’s thoughts had been shared, when their deepest feelings and memories were also ingrained in their partner’s head. It created a long-lasting and lingering mental connection that never fully went away.

Oikawa continued. “I want to use it. One more time. Right before we have our turn in two years. Is that okay?”

“Yes.” Iwaizumi cupped Oikawa’s cheek, leaned up to claim his lips again.

Promises built between them kept them steady, but also kept them moving forward. The prospect of a future together made everything even more real, even more worth it.

…

The Games had been so much more than they were expecting. It lasted two weeks—what they had later found out was the longest Games in history—and had been hell. But they’d managed to last until the end, put up a good fight too. Shiratorizawa was strong, though. So strong, but they’d managed. Until they couldn’t anymore.

It was exhausting, there was so much pressure, and by the time they got to the last few days, it was only Shiratorizawa and Aobajousai left, which made it even harder.

They probably could have lasted longer if that year’s Guide, Ayako, hadn’t been killed. They all had split up for a few moments, but still lingered close to each other. But that hadn’t stopped them from being ambushed.

The screams were a precursor for everything that was to come. When the rest of the team reached where the screams came from, the only thing they saw was the girl’s throat being slashed and then her body thrown to the ground like she was nothing.

The killer ran off as soon as they’d arrived, leaving them nothing but their Guide lying in a pool of her own blood.

“Aya! Aya!” Her SL, Harumi, was screaming, sobbing, completely incoherent as she reached her partner. One hand was on her head in agony as she literally felt the pain of her partner dying, the other fisted in Ayako’s jacket, over her heart, as if she was hoping sheer willpower would bring her back. “Aya, I can feel you dying! Don’t—”

There hadn’t been anything they could do. Nothing. Harumi, realized, _felt_ , that Ayako was gone and had resorted to a crumpled mess on the ground, holding her head and screaming, screaming that she wanted to die too.

They had heard the horror stories about what happened when one half of a pair died. The downside to compatibility tests was the lingering mental connection. It ensured that each partner could feel the other fading, could feel them dying, and it was like part of them was ripped away. They had heard, but never had seen it.

Not until then.

Harumi choked out something about dropping out, about giving up, so they did. Another member of the team sent up the signal that they were giving up, and it was over. Just like that.

Seeing Harumi have to be ripped away from Ayako’s body when they were removed from the arena was a sight not easily forgotten. None of it was. It was haunting and something they never could completely remove from their minds.

After all that happened, it was over. They had experienced the Games, gotten a glimpse of what it would be like when it was their turn. They had lived, made it out.  

(But it never really was over.)

Later, when they had been getting injuries taken care of in the hospital, a doctor had told them that Harumi committed suicide. That even after she had been stabilized, she still chose to take her own life rather than dwell in a constant state of pain and relive her other half being ripped away from her. That feeling never went away, could never be fully removed.  

At first, everything was about revenge. It wasn't until later that it became about survival. As jaded as they may have been, there still was that idealistic tendency—the thought that if they worked hard and wanted it enough, they would win. They _could_ win. It wasn't until after their first Games that they realized survival was a goal that needed to be met as well.

And they had looked at each other, fear in their eyes, but determination as well, an unspoken promise formed between them. They _wouldn’t_ let what had happened be them. They swore to each other that they wouldn’t be another Harumi and Ayako, that they wouldn’t let each other die and leave the other like that.

They would fight. They would survive. They would _win_.    

…

The screams and cheers from the crowd were overwhelming, deafening. He smiled, waved, answered the questions fired out by the reporters who crowded around him.

As much as Oikawa liked attention, as much as he normally would welcome it, it wasn’t something he really wanted right then. Not when they had one more night until the Games.

It was here. Their year, their summer, their moment—it was finally here. This was it.

When he finally escaped the reporters and the crowd, he realized that the rest of his team must have already went inside the building. Iwaizumi probably hung back though, lingered close by so as not to leave Oikawa alone.

(He’d say it was because Oikawa was a menace and caused trouble when left alone, but Oikawa knew better, knew that Iwaizumi wanted to be there.)

Before he went inside the building, he stopped next to the closest edge of the arena—covered from curious eyes until the moment the Games started— and looked up at it. It was huge that year, bigger than he had ever seen it, and stretched far across the land.

 _One more night._  

He finally let out the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding in. It was a relief to slip away from all of the attention, especially when there was so much and it was the last thing on his mind with the Games so close.

After a final look at the arena, he turned to head inside, to meet up with the rest of his team. But unfortunately, he was met with something worse than all of the nagging reporters as he ran straight into Ushijima—the last person he wanted to see.

“Oikawa.” The boy greeted with a curt nod.

The brunet scoffed, wondering how the other could regard him so freely like that. “Ushiwaka-chan… I’d say it’s nice to see you, but yeah, not really…”

Ushijima always had a blank stare, had eyes that looked dead and emotionless. He had eyes that truly bore into the soul, whether he could actually make use of that and read someone, Oikawa didn’t know.

“Good luck tomorrow. You’ll need it.”

“What do you mean _we’ll need it_?”

Ushijima answered, blunt as ever. “You think you can win, but you won’t. Not when you’ve completely wasted yourself on Aobajousai like this.”

“Wasted?” The usual anger that bubbled inside of him whenever he so much as looked at Ushijima was present, but burned even stronger at words like that. “You’ll regret saying that.”

The other shrugged, seeming completely unaffected by Oikawa’s threat. “You’re talented. More talented than any of them. It’s a waste to have someone like you on a team with people who can’t back you up or touch you in terms of skill level.”

He was torn between laughing and punching Ushijima as his mind flashed to his own team—to how they were all strong in their own right, how they supported him, respected him, understood what this meant to him even if they didn’t have the same goals. Ushijima had no idea what he was talking about. None.          

And having something like that apply Iwaizumi was even more ridiculous. Iwaizumi had always been by his side, had always been a support and a constant stable presence, had always been the one he could turn to when he needed someone. When he was drowning, Iwaizumi was the one who pulled him out—was the one who saved him time and time again. Every single time he was about to sink into murky and cold depths where no one else would even _dare_ to reach, Iwaizumi was there—was there holding out a hand for him, ready to pull him back to solid ground. Always.

Of course, Ushijima would never understand something like that. Would never—

“If it’s because of some sentimental value you hold for your SL, that’s a waste too. Why hold yourself back for one person?”

And without thinking Oikawa lunged forward, ready to shut Ushijima’s mouth, to let out everything he had been feeling. But before he could, someone grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him to solid and familiar ground once again.

“Iwa-chan!”

…

Oikawa had been bombarded, surrounded by reporters the moment they arrived in the center of the prefecture. All of them asked him questions about the Games, about their team, and no matter how comfortable and relaxed Oikawa looked, Iwaizumi knew that wasn’t how he felt.

He turned to the rest of the team, told them to go ahead and get settled in while he’d wait for Oikawa to be finished.

After a few minutes of waiting, he saw Oikawa near the edge of the arena. But he wasn’t alone. Ushijima was there too, completely oblivious to Oikawa’s clenched fists and angry expression.

(Either he was oblivious or just didn’t care. Either option was possible.)

Oikawa looked like he was ready to do something stupid, and Iwaizumi knew it was time to stop that before it could start. So when he reached his side and saw that Oikawa was ready to lunge forward at Ushijima, Iwaizumi yanked Oikawa backwards, stopped him from reacting to the words.

“Iwa-chan!”

“Save it for the arena.”

Oikawa huffed, seeming put out on the surface, but Iwaizumi could see the traces of anger still on his face. He wondered what Ushijima had said that time. “You’re no fun, Iwa-chan…” And with a sidelong glance at Ushijima and a smirk, he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck.

Iwaizumi moved to shove him away. “Get off, idiot.”

“Don’t wanna,” Oikawa whined childishly, leaned his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, still clinging onto him.  

Iwaizumi sighed. “You’re a pain, and I can’t leave you alone for even two seconds, can I, dumb—”

Oikawa’s lips claimed his own. He pressed himself further up against him, trying to shove his tongue into his mouth. And as tempting as this was, it wasn’t very appealing to kiss Oikawa, to share such an intimate moment that was _theirs_ with someone like Ushijima. The only thing about Oikawa that Ushijima deserved to see was when Oikawa plunged a knife into his chest, ending his reign and beginning their own. And that was that.

So Iwaizumi pushed Oikawa off, catching a glimpse of Ushijima’s furrowed brow and dark eyes that were even harder to read than they were normally.

(If eyes were a window to the soul, then Ushijima’s soul must have been dull and dark, tinted red with the blood of the many he had slaughtered. It was intimidating, unnerving, but made them want to end that stare more than anything else. After all, they were very familiar with blood and slaughter and all the pain that came with it.)

Oikawa whined at being shoved away, continued to do so until Iwaizumi flicked his forehead softly. “Stupid,” he murmured, but he knew that Oikawa would catch the “not here” attached to his words.

After all, Ushijima didn’t deserve to see Iwaizumi as anything other than hard and in control, unrelenting and unforgiving. Didn’t deserve to see brick houses crumble like straw under a wolf’s breath.

“We’re going to win,” Oikawa said, eyes following Iwaizumi’s to look at Ushijima. “We’re going to—”

“Don’t think I’ll simply give up because you threaten me. I’ll accept your challenge. Though, it’s a shame you’ve thrown away any shot you had to live.”

Iwaizumi caught Oikawa’s wrist the moment the brunet lunged forward, hauling him back to his side.

“You’ll regret saying that when we kick you from your throne,” Iwaizumi spat, angry as he felt the heat radiating from Oikawa’s skin, the fire in him growing larger and more uncontainable with every breath from Ushijima’s lips.

“Think what you want, but I won’t hold back. Not for you, not for anyone.”

“We don’t need you to hold back,” Oikawa hissed. “We can beat you at your strongest.”

Iwaizumi nodded in agreement, squeezed Oikawa’s wrist as an assurance. “ _Don’t_ underestimate us.”

Ushijima shrugged and turned away. “I hope you’ll live up to your words. Really, I do.”

As soon as he was gone, leaving them only to stare at a back they’d never been able to reach before (but _would_ , would reach this time), they shared a glance. Their eyes were filled with determination, refracting all of the promises they had ever made each other. Promises of stays and don’t gos, of live ons and move forwards, of get evens and don’t give ups. Of a future. Together.

“We’ll win,” Oikawa declared.

“We’ll win,” Iwaizumi repeated.

They would. This time, they _would_.

…

He threw the remote for the television at the wall as soon as the last interview cut off—one with Ushijima, who had again bluntly dismissed their whole team when asked if he was worried about them. “Who the hell does he think he is anyway?”

“Quit watching those if it bothers you. He always spews out whatever the hell he wants,” Iwaizumi said from the other side of the room they had been given to share, where he was finishing getting ready for the stupid party that night. “We’ll show him, all of them. Nothing anyone says matters.”

“I know. He’s going to regret not taking us seriously.”

“He won’t even have time to regret it,” Iwaizumi said with a smirk.

It was true, and he knew they could do it, but there were so much built up nerves that he couldn’t help the little bit of doubt in his mind as his thoughts wandered to their competition. All of the teams seemed strong that year—save for a few weak ones that would probably be picked off right away—which meant the competition would be tough. They were probably a target, others were sure to be aiming to get them out early. And not only was Ushijima in their way, but Kageyama was too. It had been a surprise to find out he was participating for his first year with another team—Oikawa hadn’t expected Kageyama to join any military after what had happened with Kindaichi and Kunimi. But he did, and he was an obstacle, something to be overcome.

A hand on his shoulder drew him back to attention—Iwaizumi stood in front of him, must have come over while Oikawa was lost in his thoughts. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Tobio’s back,” Oikawa murmured after a moment of brief silence passed between them. “With a new team.”

“I heard. Don’t worry about that, okay?” Iwaizumi squeezed his shoulder. “No matter what’s in our way, we’ll get past it.”

Oikawa frowned. “I’m not worried.” _Not really._ “He may be naturally better than me, but—”

Iwaizumi sighed, exasperated as soon as the words were out. “Dammit, Oikawa, don’t say that crap! Quit putting yourself down or I’ll—”

“I’m just saying the truth! Everything has always come easier to him and you know it. But I was going to say that even though he may be better, he’s not going to get in our way.”

“Good.” Iwaizumi nodded, looked satisfied with his response. “You ready?”

“No.” Oikawa sighed and flopped back onto the bed. “I hate this. I hate waiting. I hate all of them asking me questions and I hate even having to look at the other teams.”

This—the part where they had to go and deal with the media and fans and all of the other teams, acting like everything was fine and they all weren’t going to try to kill each other the next day—was pointless, a big waste of time. But it was tradition, part of the Games, so it was something they had to do. As if the last thing on any of the competitor’s minds was answering stupid questions and dealing with loud fans who acted like the Games were entertainment, sport, like people weren’t dying out there—like there wasn’t a huge weight that came with competing.

“I know, but we have to go now, so—” Oikawa grabbed his hand, yanking him forward so they landed on the bed in a jumbled heap, limbs tangled together and faces inches apart. “What the hell, dumbass?”

He ignored the words, instead leaned up and pressed his lips to Iwaizumi’s—fingers tangled in his shirt and pulling him in even closer. For just a brief moment, that’s all there was: them. Them together, wrapped up in each other and nothing else. No Games, no nagging fear, nothing. Only each other.

“We could stay here,” Oikawa murmured against his lips when they broke the kiss. “We could skip out and forget about all of that.”

Iwaizumi seriously looked like he was considering it for a moment and leaned forward to kiss him again, but a soft knock on the door drew both of their attention away from each other and back to reality.

“Oikawa-san, Iwaizumi-san, they want you downstairs now. Everyone is ready.”

“We’ll be there in a minute, Kindaichi. Thanks.” He looked at Oikawa again, pressed one last kiss to his lips and pulled back. “Come on, we have to go.”

Oikawa groaned, but didn’t argue. “Fine.” He took Iwaizumi’s outstretched hand, let him pull him to his feet.

“Hey, we’re still in agreement for later, right?” Iwaizumi asked as he straightened Oikawa’s tie. “You know about the—”

Their agreement to use the compatibility machine the night before the Games, the promise they had made two years ago. Of course it was still in place, was something they would do.

Oikawa smiled. “Awww, Iwa-chan, you remembered! I thought I was going to have to remind you!”

“Dumbass!” Iwaizumi hissed, tightening the tie way too tightly around Oikawa’s neck and stepping on his foot.

“Can’t breathe!” Oikawa choked out dramatically. “You’re going to give the other teams an easier time if you kill me now, Iwa-chan!”

“You’re an idiot,” he said, but he still loosened the tie from around Oikawa’s neck. “Do me a favor, and don’t do anything stupid tonight.”

“You’re acting like I do stupid things all of the time and can’t be trusted,” Oikawa said, pouting the slightest bit.

“You do. And you can’t,” Iwaizumi shot back, nudging Oikawa’s shoulder lightly as they moved to leave the room.

He made a huge show of sighing. “You have so little faith in me, Iwa-chan…”  

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes at the theatrics. “Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Oikawa muttered almost sincerely. Almost. He wouldn’t guarantee anything, though. Not when he was so filled with adrenaline for what would come next.

…

They had agreed on a time to meet up, one where they would be able to slip away from everyone else and go off on their own, but they had to deal with everything here first. Well, at least meeting up and fulfilling their promise to each other was a motivator to get through this part of the night.

People asked him questions, wanted to know his thoughts on the other teams, gave praise and wished him luck. It was so much, too much. All of the faces blurred together, all of the flashing cameras were bright, blinding, all of the words of encouragement and wishes of luck were nothing more than words—no matter how sincerely they were spoken. They did nothing to calm his racing heart, nothing to quell the anticipation in his bones. All he could think about was the Games, about what could happen.

And no matter how confident he was in their team, no matter how much he believed in each and every single one of them and knew they were ready for this, there were still doubts and fears: of failing, of dying, of losing his teammates, of losing Iwaizumi—feeling that aching, crushing pain in his head and like part of him was being ripped away.

(All of those were possibilities, possibilities that could easily shatter every promise they had ever made.)

But no matter how he felt, he had to act confident and completely sure of himself. He couldn’t show fear or weakness. Not here, not when everyone was watching.

He smiled when their eyes were on him, acted completely secure, made it look like nothing was wrong, like he belonged.

It was a relief when he finally managed to get away from the reporters and those crowded around him. It seemed like they were all done harassing him for at least a moment. When he looked at the time, he realized there was only a little bit longer until he could slip away to meet Iwaizumi.

He wasn’t sure what to do with his remaining time, but knew that he wanted nothing to do with the media. It wasn’t until a very familiar person caught his eye that he knew what to do, found his feet carrying him forward without really even thinking about it.

Kageyama. Kageyama of all people was standing off in a corner.

Maybe it was best to avoid him, but Oikawa never liked to do what was best. So without a second thought, he was over there, smirking at the younger boy.

“Tobio-chan! How are you doing? Are you ready for our first official face off tomorrow?”

“Oikawa-san,” Kageyama said quietly, acknowledging his presence. “I’m… okay.”

Oikawa smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes. Kageyama had always been a threat to him, had always been the one who could mess up his plans, to send him crashing down. And if they did end up facing off sometime in the near future, he wasn’t opposed to going in with a slight advantage. “So… you still doing the king thing? How do your new teammates like that?”

Kageyama was silent, but Oikawa could see the hurt look in his eyes, no matter how briefly it was there. And he felt a strange sense of power over this, over everything—like he was in control.

But before he could say another word, someone else was there, by Kageyama’s side. “Hey, Kageyama, who’s this? Do you know him?”

Kageyama looked at the shorter boy for a moment, and seemed to relax the slightest bit. Oikawa had never seen that before. The Kageyama he knew was usually tense around others, didn’t know how to act, pushed them away. Before Kageyama could speak, Oikawa took control of the situation once again. 

“Tobio-chan and I were on the same team for a while… until he left.” Oikawa waved his hand in the air dismissively. “Kind of a low move, even if you couldn’t connect with any of your teammates. Is it like that with your new team too?”

And when Kageyama looked at his feet, not saying a word, Oikawa almost felt like he had won. Almost. Kageyama was someone who made him feel inadequate, that he would be overshadowed and unable to reach his goal because someone better stood in his way. He _still_ felt that way about Kageyama. But even though that fear still occupied the back of his mind, Oikawa knew that he had things Kageyama didn’t. And being able to put someone like Kageyama down boosted himself up.

(Maybe that was wrong, but he didn’t care. He had lost any sense of right and wrong when he watched everything be ripped from him. Morality didn’t matter, not when winning and living drove him forward.)

He _really_ hated geniuses. People like Kageyama and Ushijima were the ones expected for greatness. _They_ had received some of the highest test scores in history whereas Oikawa had been lucky enough to receive _one_ of the highest scores at Aobajousai. It was a score higher than most, but still didn’t even come close to touching either prodigy.

But Oikawa was an unexpected force, someone who had initial promise but had to work hard and grow and get stronger in order to be seen as a threat. He might not have gotten all of the ability he needed naturally, but he had fought for it… would continue to fight until he got what he wanted.

“Kageyama’s not like that,” the short boy said, speaking up when Kageyama wouldn’t. “We all depend on him and he depends on us too.”

Oikawa laughed. That was something he would have liked to see. People tolerated Kageyama, respected him for his skill. They didn’t get along with him. That seemed impossible.

He smirked when he spotted Kindaichi and Kunimi nearby. Both looked like they had spotted Kageyama and wanted to avoid him at all costs. Oikawa didn’t blame them, those three had a really weird and strained background together, but that didn’t stop him from calling out to them.

“Kindaichi, Kunimi, come here!” Oikawa waved them over, smiling widely when he caught the horrified look on Kageyama’s face. “Come say hello! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

They listened, probably because they felt like they had to. He _was_ in charge after all. He tried to contain his laughter as the three former teammates just looked at each other and didn’t say anything. This was sure to throw Kageyama off his game.

“You know, this shorty says that things are different now with their team. What do you two think about that?”

“He’s still a king,” Kindaichi murmured. “There’s no way he could change.”

Kunimi didn’t say anything else, but nodded in agreement.

It was enough to make Kageyama look away from them, upset and maybe even a little defeated.

Oikawa was smiling, a little too brightly. “Well, we’ll have to see.” He directed his focus back to Kageyama, ready to end the turmoil as quickly as he started it, ready to deliver the final blow as he turned to walk away, calling over his shoulder, “I really hope we get to face each other in there, Tobio-chan. I want to crush you.”

He laughed quietly as he left Kageyama in what he hoped was complete disarray. It was only fair, though. Geniuses needed to have _some_ of the odds stacked against them too.

…

Slipping out of the room unnoticed had been easier than he expected. That combined with the satisfaction of harassing Kageyama, made him feel lighter, better for some reason.

Maybe that was just what he was telling himself in order to push away any lingering doubts he had.

(If so, it worked for the briefest of moments.)

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. He was going to meet Iwaizumi, to do what they had promised that night two years ago. Then they’d be where they had been trying to get to for so many years. They’d finally have their chance, and they’d make it count. They’d win. The Games wouldn’t overrun them. Not a chance.  

“Oikawa.”

The voice surprised him. He thought he was all alone in the abandoned hallway. Most people never came in this direction, never even bothered with the compatibility machines in this building anymore, so he thought he’d be uninterrupted in his walk there.

When he turned, any lightness he had been feeling disappeared, and was replaced by that twinge of anger that always seemed to be present when _he_ was around.

“I’m a little busy right now, Ushiwaka-chan. If you want to continue from earlier, you’ll have to wait until we’re in the arena.”

He turned away, really not wanting to deal with this at that moment. But Ushijima grabbed his wrist, turned him around and shoved him back against the wall, preventing escape.

“I told you I’m not doing this now,” Oikawa hissed, narrowing his eyes at the taller figure. “Back the fuck off.”

“Just listen. For a minute.”

_“What?”_

“I don’t get you. At all.”

Oikawa laughed. _This_ was what Ushijima had stopped him for? To try and figure him out? “Good. You’re not supposed to. I don’t want you to.”

Ushijima ignored the quip, continued, “You have so much talent. You draw people in, bring out the best in them. Why waste that on somewhere where it’s not guaranteed to pay off? Don’t you want to win? To live?”

“…I wouldn’t care if I died as long as I knocked Shiratorizawa down. That’s all I want.”

Ushijima seemed taken aback by his words. Anyone who didn’t know his motivations for throwing himself into this life in the first place would be. “Why bother then? Isn’t the point of this to win for your village and to survi—”

“Not for me. I only have one goal in mind.” For an instant, his mind flickered back to that day, but he pushed it away as quickly as it came forward. No need to think of that right then…

“Is that why you turned that offer down two years ago then?”

Oikawa thought back to two years ago, right before his first time in the Games. Ushijima had extended an offer from Shiratorizawa: if Oikawa wanted to, he could join them, could take over as Guide and Ushijima would be his SL. That would have been this year, this summer.

But of course, Oikawa had turned it down, laughing so hard that there were tears in his eyes, telling Ushijima there was no way in hell that he’d ever even _think_ of leaving his own team to go to somewhere like Shiratorizawa. It had been so funny. _It still was funny._

“Oh, are you still upset that I’ve rejected you so many times? Does it hurt to have me turn you down when anyone else would probably jump at the chance?”

“We would have been good together,” was all Ushijima said, though it finally seemed like there was _something_ other than the normal blank look in his eyes. He looked… disappointed? “We would have been unstoppable.”

“You already win every year. You don’t need someone like me. And there’s no way in hell I want someone like you or your team.”

He realized then that Ushijima was still holding his wrist because he squeezed it tightly. “I can’t figure you out… There are times I admire you, your talent. You’re one of the best there is. I want you. I want to work with you.”

Oikawa rested his hand over his heart. “You have such a way with words, Ushiwaka-chan. My heart can’t handle it!” He tipped his head backwards dramatically, laughing. “My knees feel weak right now!”

Ushijima continued without missing a beat. “…And then there are times I want to kill you. To end you. To break you and show you that you were wrong and made the biggest mistake you ever could.”

Oikawa looked back at him, no longer laughing, his eyes dark and focused and angry. “You have the social skills of a piece of cardboard, Ushiwaka-chan.” His words were biting, bitter. “You can’t say such nice things and then finish with how you want to kill someone. That’s no way to win anyone over.”

Ushijima stared at him, just stood there, eyes narrowed, looking Oikawa over, taking in his rising anger.

“And besides, what makes you think you could?” Oikawa pushed himself off of the wall and leaned up, staring straight into Ushijima’s eyes menacingly. “Like _hell_ I’ll go down without a fight. You’ll regret ever—”

The rest of his words were muffled because Ushijima grabbed him and kissed him.

Damn. This really was a night full of surprises… it turned out better than he thought. First harassing Kageyama and then a chance to mess up Ushijima. Perfect.

Oikawa leaned forward, a smirk on his lips as he reciprocated the kiss, sucking Ushijima’s tongue into his mouth. It took every single effort to contain his laughter at this ridiculous turn of events.

He’d always known Ushijima had some weird draw to him, thought he was crazy and just obsessed with finding strong teammates. But really, he wanted one strong person in particular… all to himself in every way possible.

And it made Oikawa feel powerful. Only sirens could pull a god down to humanity, could cause a strong ship to wreck and an even stronger sailor to lose his mind. He’d be the one who’d knock Ushijima from his throne, this confirmed it.

Ushijima kissed him hard and forceful, controlling and demanding. Like someone who knew what they wanted and expected to be met, someone who wouldn’t relent. 

(It was so unbelievably different from Iwaizumi’s kisses. Ushijima’s pace was set and unmoving, demanding that Oikawa match him. Iwaizumi met him right in the middle, like a compromise between them. Something shared between equals.)

If there was ever any doubt in his mind over what he wanted, this would have swept away all of them. Not that he ever doubted his resolve or his decision to stay where he belonged. That was the one thing he never doubted.

He let it carry on for a moment, until he could no longer handle the forceful kissing. And he pulled back slightly, sinking his teeth into Ushijima’s bottom lip and stepping hard on his foot before pulling away quickly and wiping his mouth.

His laughter was the only thing that filled the quiet hallway. Ushijima stared at him, seemingly trying to process what had just happened. “I can’t believe you did that!” Oikawa clutched his stomach, doubling over in laughter.

“Oikawa…”

“Iwa-chan will have another reason to want to kill you when he finds out about that. But I might not tell him. I want to be the one who kills you, after all.” He turned away, smirk plastered to his face, shoulders still slightly shaking from laughter. “See you tomorrow, Ushiwaka-chan!”

“You’re stupid.”

“I don’t care what you have to say anymore,” Oikawa said in a singsong voice, sounding more like a child than an eighteen year old boy. “Bye bye!”

“Getting attached to someone is the stupidest thing you could ever do. Especially here. People die.”

“People die,” Oikawa repeated with a shrug. (Not them, though. He and Iwaizumi had promised they wouldn’t, and their promises could be counted on.) “So what? Don’t get attached to anyone because you’re afraid?”

Ushijima shrugged. “I don’t know. What would _you_ do if someone killed your SL?”

Oikawa froze in his tracks, turned to look at Ushijima. His eyes were full of anger, the urge to end this right then there, telling him to hit Ushijima for even making the thinly veiled threat. “I’d hunt whoever it was down and make them pay,” he spat. “And he’d do the same for me. You can count on that.”

And without another word, he was gone, moving forward at a much quicker pace than normal, anger bubbling under his skin. He didn’t need to think of this. It wasn’t going to happen. He wouldn’t let it.

_He’d never let it._

…

“What’d you do this time?” Iwaizumi asked when Oikawa entered the room and slammed his fist down on the keypad to lock the door.

“Why do you always assume it’s me?”

“Because it usually is.” Something was wrong, though. Despite the normal whine in Oikawa’s voice that was there whenever someone accused him of anything, he seemed jolted—like something had bothered him. Iwaizumi reached forward, took his hand and pulled Oikawa to him. “What’s wrong?”

“No point in me saying, you’ll know in a minute.” Oikawa leaned his forehead against Iwaizumi’s shoulder, tangled his fingers in his shirt. A breath later and he pulled away, looking calmer, but there was still a lingering angry look in his eyes. “Ready?”

“Yeah…”

 _This is it_ , he thought as he moved to set up the machine, unable to believe that only two years ago they had made this promise, that this was their last night before everything would change.

(Tomorrow would be the day that set them on the track of being able to either fulfill every promise they ever made to each other or crashing and burning and breaking—losing everything.)

Only moonlight illuminated the dark room—they’d decided turning the light on would draw unwanted attention—as it seeped in through the window. They sat facing each other on the cot in the center of the room, Iwaizumi tapping settings into the machine next to them while Oikawa sat swinging his legs—an impatient habit—anxiously waiting.

The silence between them was _there_ , existing peacefully—not heavy or uncomfortable. It was the type of silence they had grown accustomed to. One where they could fill any void with something as simple as a touch or a breath… like that was all they ever needed.

(Their promises weren’t always punctuated with confident declarations or forceful assurances, after all.)

A brush of their knees against each other’s, a quick meeting of fingertips as Iwaizumi handed Oikawa the equipment for the machine—it was enough. And when armbands were strapped against their skin, regularizing their beating hearts, when wires were pressed against their temples, connecting their minds, Iwaizumi glanced at Oikawa and all he needed was a simple look for confirmation. So he hit the button on the machine and closed his eyes, waiting for the familiar sensation to overcome him.

And soon enough, it did. It was always hazy at first—like his mind was slowly warming up to being in sync with someone else’s—where everything was dark and unclear for a brief moment until light washed over it all and he could see _everything._

(He’d always wondered what would happen if you didn’t want someone to see everything, if you wanted something hidden, but they had never needed to hide anything. They knew—wanted to know—anything, everything about each other. Always.)

The memories were jumbled, only brief flashes, but they were of things he knew, things he remembered, things he didn’t mind thinking about, things he had forgotten after such a long time, things he’d rather leave untouched. They were all there. It wasn’t just seeing, though, it was feeling, reliving. The scent of the trees, the crunch of their feet against the ground, and chill of crisp air from the time they were seven and wandered past the gate back home, slipping into the forest behind there when they weren’t supposed to. The dark night, hot air, the way their clammy and shaking hands had met on their first night away from home after it had been destroyed. The rain, cool against their skin, the way his back had knocked against the wall of one of the buildings in the alley, Oikawa’s fingers curled into his shirt as their lips found each other’s when they had gotten caught in the rain one summer night on their way home from training. _It was all there._

And he wanted to stay, wanted to get caught up in it all—to forget any fear he had about what would come the next day.

But where there was light, there was always darkness, and the things he’d rather not get caught up in, those were silhouettes casting uncertainty and doubt and fear and anger. They were things that made him want to stay back, but also move forward. He had always wanted to forget, but knew that he—they—wouldn’t be as strong as they were if they didn’t constantly use the past to propel them forward. Brick didn’t become a house—something strong and stable and sturdy—without mortar to hold it together.

He felt a twinge of anger when he saw a memory he hadn’t seen before, of Ushijima grabbing Oikawa forcefully, pressing his lips against his. Someone who wanted to take away their lives had no right to be so close to Oikawa’s source of oxygen, trying, demanding, to take away his breath, his source of life. And thinly veiled but definitely there threats were the ones that made his blood boil, that made him swear he’d prove every assumption, every judgment, Ushijima ever made wrong. _He would. They would._

Apart from memories, emotions and thoughts were there too. He was sure Oikawa could feel his anger, his resolve, while Iwaizumi could feel Oikawa’s lingering doubts, the nagging thought of _What if I’m not good enough?_

(He hated that. Hated that Oikawa felt that insecure, that unconfident and shaken when he didn’t need to be. Even if he wasn’t the strongest on his own, together, as a team, they could become unstoppable.)

They’d prove it this time.     

There was no hiding anything, no need to keep their guard up, not when they were like this—face to face, chest to chest, heart to heart. They already knew everything about the other anyway, probably even better than they knew themselves. This just confirmed it, even if it only served as a way to comfort one another before the moment they had been waiting for finally came within their reach.

And so he reached out, taking Oikawa’s face in his hands and pulling him from the chaos, bringing him from everything unknown to the one thing he had always been completely sure of. He broke through the barrier that was Oikawa’s fears and insecurities, and took him in his own hands, welcomed him into his heart—where he belonged. Resting his forehead against Oikawa’s, Iwaizumi made sure he knew, made sure to get his point across. _I’m right here. I’ll always be right here, at your side._

(Together. It meant safety and security, somewhere to lay their heads and rest—without worry, without fear. Those things weren’t certain, but were something they would keep searching for until they _could_ feel completely safe.)

It was difficult to get past the jumble of their thoughts and memories and emotions all rushing into each other’s heads at once, but a clear thought reached him. _You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Hajime._

His chest tightened and he felt warm all over, fingers tingling and heart thudding in his chest. The connection was becoming weaker as the time ran out, but he saw one last thought clearly: their hands, strong and stable and rough and calloused, linked, their fingers intertwined—a silent promise that they would be together, that they would fight, that they only needed each other.

When the connection broke, timer beeping softly, their foreheads were still pressed together, Iwaizumi cradling Oikawa’s face in his hands.

Oikawa opened his eyes, filled with warmth and love and affection instead of the dark and angry edge that was so common. “I love you,” he said softly, fingers tightly gripping the back of Iwaizumi’s shirt.

“I love you too.” And their lips met.

Their kiss was soft at first—a reassurance, a confirmation—before becoming harder—a need, a desire. Oikawa, impatient, broke the kiss for a moment, tearing off the equipment and tossing it to the side, Iwaizumi doing the same. They met again, unhindered and wanting, lips fit against each other much more forcefully.

Oikawa’s fingers were curled in the front of his shirt, clutching the fabric tightly. Iwaizumi’s hands still held his face, fingers brushing against, caressing his skin. An “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

But then Oikawa pulled him down by the tie, fingers ghosting over the buttons of Iwaizumi’s shirt, warm against his chest as they trailed over his heart.

“What’re you doing?” he finally muttered when they briefly pulled apart for air, trying to pull back further to get a better look at Oikawa’s face.

But Oikawa held him in place, didn’t let him pull away. “What does it look like?” He pulled him in closer, and lips were on his a second later.

“ _Here?”_ Iwaizumi hissed, moving to pull back again. “Are you crazy? We can’t—”

Oikawa’s hand was in his before he could even finish, squeezing it gently. The look in his eyes was still warm, tender. _Don’t make me wait_ , it said. _Not now._

And he realized that despite what they said, despite every promise they ever made to each other, this could be it. This could be the last time they—

He shook the thought from his mind, breathing out an answer, “Okay.” He squeezed Oikawa’s hand back. “Okay.”

And ignoring any fear, any doubt, any worry, they leaned toward each other. 

…

 _There’s nothing I’d take back._ It wasn’t just a thought, it was the truth. They’d been through so much together—pain and sadness and anger, but also warmth and happiness and love. Their promises were more than just words passed between two kids who had grown up and finally had their own chance, their goal within their reach. Their promises were ingrained, rooted in each other’s hearts, would not be broken down or swept away so easily.

(When hearts had been crossed, a vow taken, a bond created, it didn’t disintegrate so easily. Not without a fight, not without a struggle. Not when it was something they were willing to put their lives on the line for. Their hands were strong and capable, able to fulfill what they had initially agreed upon when they were only eight years old.)

_They were ready._

I love yous and other intimate words were exhaled softly, like a gentle breeze, promises held firmly in place with a sure touch.

And it was with a whisper, his name breathed against his chest, a hand pressed over his heart, that he knew it, that he knew that whatever they would face when they stepped into the unknown the next day, they’d take it on together. And they would live on, move forward, win.

“Hajime.” It was muttered softly, muffled against his chest as they laid wrapped in each other, staring at the moon before them. “We’ll win. I promise.”

“I know.” He squeezed him gently, fingers tracing circles on his back. “Me too, Tooru.”

And it was with their hands intertwined that they were ready to step into this. By each other’s sides. 

 

_Wherever there is you, I will be there too._

The arena was bigger than any of them expected. It seemed endless, a gigantic forest filled with tall and looming trees, dark and dreary caves, and rushing rocky streams. Right then, it was hot and humid, a reminder that this was the middle of summer, but the evening was bringing in a gust of cool air.

The first day had been rather uneventful. For the most part, they’d laid low, staying out of the way and only acting if they needed to. Only one kill was on them so far—a simple, but perfectly aimed throw of a dagger that lodged itself in some unsuspecting kid’s back after he had gotten too close to where they’d been staying. Nothing personal, just something that had to be done. It had been over quickly.

Their strategy upon entering the arena was to wait for some of the other teams to do the work so they’d be able to conserve their strength for when it mattered.

(Sometimes survival of the fittest meant holding back and letting other teams go through the trouble.)

“Relax for a minute, guys,” Oikawa told the team, leaning forward to look around one of the large trees of the secluded clearing they stopped in, making sure there was no one lurking around. “We’ll keep moving in a minute.”

Slowly they’d been making their way toward the center of the arena, where there were better weapons than the ones they were initially equipped with. Each team started in a different, unknown position in the arena, and they’d been let in somewhere on the left end, not horribly far from the middle, but they planned to take a longer path there to throw anyone nearby off their trail. They were known to be an aggressive team, one who would likely push forward and take the lead right away, but they weren’t going to be predictable in this. Not if they wanted to win.

Oikawa turned to look at Iwaizumi once he was satisfied that the area was clear. “Do you think anyone will drop out soon?”

“I don’t know. There have only been a few deaths so far. This year is definitely one of the stronger ones.” It was true. They had only heard the cannon signaling someone’s death go off about five times that day. In most other years it would go off constantly throughout the first day.

Oikawa shrugged, leaning back against one of the trees. “Well, it is only the first day. Can’t say I’m not surprised though. Shiratorizawa usually has a bunch of kills by now.”

“They probably have something planned. They always do.”

“Did you guys hear Shiratorizawa’s interview from this morning?” They turned to look at Kindaichi as he spoke. “They said that we’re a threat and they want to get rid of us first and make us lose.”

Oikawa laughed. “Those are usually a bunch of lies.” They never listened to Ushijima’s words, always a bunch of blunt declarations, but still difficult to read. “What a change from last night, if that is their plan,” he added in darkly.

“You don’t think they’ll do it, Oikawa-san?”

He shrugged at Kindaichi’s question. “I don’t know. But if that _is_ how they want to play, we should give them hell, right?”

“What do you—?”

Oikawa grinned, the idea of it taking over his mind. That would be the ultimate retribution, to not only beat Shiratorizawa, but to see them branded as the losers. To have the same fate happen to them. “If Shiratorizawa wants to wipe us all out first, then we should return the favor. It’s only fair, right?”

But the thought was broken when Iwaizumi smacked him upside the head. “Don’t be stupid. We’re not doing something that risky this early.”

He frowned. “Fine… but we probably should do _something_ soon, especially if they are serious about this and—”

The words were drowned out by their yells of surprise. None of them really knew what had happened, just that an arrow, nearly perfectly aimed—nearly only because Oikawa happened to move backwards by chance before he even knew it was coming—whizzed past his face and hit a nearby tree instead.

 _Fuck._ Someone had found them. _Fuck._ Before he could even direct anyone properly, he caught a glimpse of Shiratorizawa’s jackets just before an explosion shook the area.

…

It was impossible to see anything. Dirt and smoke had flown up everywhere, the air became instantly hotter from the explosion’s fires.

“Move out of the way!” Oikawa instructed. “We can’t see, but neither can they! Don’t let them remember where you were standing!”

“You’re smart,” someone said from his left. “No wonder everyone says you’re a threat.”

He couldn’t see that well, only could briefly make out blurred outlines. But it was enough. His knife was ready when the enemy lunged and missed. A fatal mistake—the knife was shoved into the boy’s chest seconds later, twisted and ripped out. No chance of survival. A loud cannon signaled the death.

The smoke started to clear. It was a little easier to see, but not hear. There was so much chaos. So much. Roaring and uncontrollable fire, gunshots, yells, cries of pain.

Someone grabbed his arm, yanked him out of the way of another arrow and pulled him behind a tree for cover as a second explosion went off. It was Iwaizumi, blood pouring down his arm. “We have to move!”

“I know! But they’ll follow us!”       

As if an answer to that problem, Kunimi was by their side, closely followed by Kindaichi, who was clutching his own arm. “We found this on the ground.” He held up a gun that was much bigger than a normal one.

“What is it?”

Kunimi ducked his head as another arrow flew by, and Iwaizumi grabbed a knife, leaned around the tree and threw it with perfect aim at the still chaotic scene before them. “It shoots off the explosives. There’s one or two left.” 

A distraction. Perfect! “Okay. We’ll draw their attention and then shoot.” Oikawa pressed the button on his earpiece, connecting himself to the rest of the team. “Run toward the middle of the arena. Just keep running, don’t stop!”

He received confirmation from Hanamaki and Matsukawa, and they all took off. Shiratorizawa could see them this time, since the smoke was clearing again. And there were bullets and arrows flying toward them, just missing. Barely missing.

Oikawa turned his head, looking behind him as Kunimi prepared the gun. And the moment he saw Ushijima, he stopped thinking clearly, anger overtaking him and clouding his judgment. It was a perfect shot. A perfect opportunity. One he wouldn’t get again. Ushijima was unguarded, distracted. His fingers clenched tightly around the hilt of his dagger. Just one shot.

He stopped dead in his tracks, readying to throw the knife.

“Oikawa!”

“What the hell are you doing?!”

Everything happened at once. Kunimi shot the gun. The knife was about to leave Oikawa’s fingertips, until he saw a bullet flying toward him, straight for him. There was no time to—

But then someone leapt forward, shoved him out of the way. The explosion went off, Oikawa clambered to his feet. Blood was everywhere. Whose—?

Hanamaki laid crumpled on the ground, blood seeping out from the wound in his back and also where the bullet had passed clean through his heart.

“Why would you do that?!” Oikawa yelled, not even caring if he could answer or not. “Why would you—?”

“We need you to win…”

Everyone was frozen, just stared. They had to move, but none of them could. Oikawa bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. That wasn’t supposed to happen. It had been his mistake. His hit to take. Why…?

“I’m sorry,” he finally choked out. “Thank you.”

“Just win.” Hanamaki’s breathing was becoming more and more labored, barely there. “You have to win.”

“We will. I swear we will!”

“Good…” His breathing stopped, his chest no longer rising and falling. Oikawa felt a burning behind his eyes as they heard the cannon go off. _I’m sorry._

And then someone grabbed his wrist, pulling him forward again. “We have to go, the smoke is clearing.” Iwaizumi tugged his wrist again. “Come on.”

So they ran. But it felt wrong. It felt like he had let them all down. It felt dark and empty and so   _wrong_.

…

They stumbled into a cave, chests heaving from all of the running. But they finally felt like they had lost Shiratorizawa and they could recover from the attack here.

All of them had injuries, some worse than others. Kindaichi’s whole left arm was burned, the skin blistered and peeling. Iwaizumi’s arm had been grazed by a bullet, was still bleeding, though not as heavily as before.

“Everyone just… take care of your injuries for now,” Iwaizumi spoke after Oikawa said nothing even though everyone was looking to him to say, to _do_ something.

But he couldn’t say anything. How could he? How could he when he was the one responsible?

Iwaizumi brushed his fingers against Oikawa’s wrist, likely a reassurance, before going to take care of his injury. But it didn’t help. Nothing would help.

Oikawa’s mind kept flicking back to what had happened. He had been the one who caused this, who had caused the team to get hurt, who had caused Hanamaki to die.

He didn’t want that to happen. He had _never_ wanted something like that to happen.

How could he look at any of them? How could they look at him and expect him to lead them to victory? He had been the one who had brought this on them. He would be the one who couldn’t help them, who would be of no use compared to someone like Ushijima.

The silence was becoming too much. “Why aren’t any of you saying anything?!”

They all looked up at him, surprised by his outburst, but still silent.

“Why aren’t you blaming me?!”

Iwaizumi sighed, standing up and reaching out to touch him. “Tooru, don’t…”

“Shut up!” He ripped his hand away from Iwaizumi. “You all should be mad! You all should say _something_!”  

“There’s nothing to say,” Iwaizumi said, frowning at him. “None of us think what you do, so quit—”

Oikawa didn’t let him finish, turning around and stalking off to be alone—or as alone as he could be when he was so filled with anger and frustration and fear and sadness and doubt.

Maybe he couldn’t do this after all. Maybe they all deserved better.

…

Iwaizumi sighed when Oikawa stormed off, looking to the rest of the team, who were looking at him, awaiting some sort of answer. “I’ll take care of it,” he promised. “He just needs a minute…”

Everyone nodded, but the silence was still heavy between them. They had lost a teammate. They were injured and a target and had a lot more to get through that would be a lot more difficult than this if they wanted any shot at winning.

Kindaichi and Kunimi had been sitting quietly, Kunimi tending to Kindaichi’s burns, but every so often the two youngest team members spared a worried glance at Oikawa. Both seemed jumpy and nervous, like anyone would their first time in the Games. Finally, Kunimi turned to look at Iwaizumi. “There’s a stream not far from here. We’re going to go and take care of the burns there.”

“Fine, don’t stay too long though and be careful out there.”

The two boys nodded, Kunimi leading Kindaichi away by the hand.

“I’ll go with them.” Matsukawa patted Iwaizumi’s shoulder—a good luck—before following the other two out of the cave.

And he was alone with Oikawa. Oikawa, who didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment, who was probably feeling so many different things, and beginning to doubt himself again.

With a sigh, Iwaizumi walked over to him, hating these moments, hating when Oikawa got so down like this and he had to do something in order to pull him back up before it was too late and Oikawa was too far gone.

When he reached the back of the cave, he found Oikawa facing away from him, resting his forehead against his drawn up knees, biting his lip so hard he drew blood.

He had seen this before. He had seen Oikawa break, had seen Oikawa rip himself apart as he stood under the pressure, the expectations of everyone else and of himself. The times when Oikawa broke were always the most violent. It was these times that Iwaizumi knew how fragile Oikawa really was—how in only an instant his perfectly concealed vulnerabilities seeped out of him and transformed him into what he feared being most: weak.

(He saw single flash of Oikawa’s face when they had escaped their burning and destructing homes, when he had bitten his trembling lip, wiped his tears away, and stood tall and looming, fists clenched and mouth twisted into a terrifying grin—a grin that promised destruction and danger. His eyes set and determined, Oikawa had thrown away the child he had been, had completely shed any normalcy he had, and became a strong, fearsome, and destructive force—one who would not rest, who would not be the weak child who couldn’t do anything as he simply watched everything he cherished get ripped away from him.)

Oikawa punched the ground in frustration, his knuckles cracking open as they came into contact with the jagged rocks of the cave.

It was so similar to when Oikawa had pulled away from everyone, to when he had been so focused on becoming stronger and getting better that he had been willing to break himself in order to do that. And Iwaizumi knew he had to do something. Because he’d _never_ let that happen again.

“Relax,” he murmured, crouching down in front of Oikawa and grabbing his arm to prevent him from punching the ground again. “It’ll—”

“Don’t say it will be okay!” Frustrated tears fell from Oikawa’s eyes. “It’s not going to be okay! How can it be?!”

Iwaizumi frowned. “You have to stay strong, okay? We need you.”

Oikawa laughed bitterly. “What’s the point? What’s the point if I can’t do it? After everything I still can’t win. I still can’t save _anyone_!”

“It’s we,” Iwaizumi said forcefully, grabbing Oikawa’s face and making him look at him. “It’s not all on you. We’re a team!”

“But—”

“We knew this wasn’t going to be easy. But you have a whole team to back you up. And none of us blame you or hold you responsible for anything. All of us believe in you. _I_ believe in you.”

Oikawa wiped his tears away, tried to hold back fresh ones. “...I never wanted anyone to die for me,” he choked out.

“I know,” Iwaizumi murmured, already prepared for when Oikawa hugged him desperately, holding on tightly and burying his face in the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck. “I know.”

He brushed his fingers against Oikawa’s back before resting them in his hair, cradling the back of his head gently.

“We have to win,” Oikawa whispered, voice muffled. “ _We have to_.”

“We will,” Iwaizumi assured him. “ _We will_.”

Sometimes, he wanted to yank Oikawa backwards—to pull him to much steadier and stable ground—but in the end no ground was steady (not in this world) and he always just ended up standing by his side, a silent promise that he was there and he wouldn’t let go. Ever.

…

“We need to do something about weapons,” Oikawa said, much calmer, leaning back against the wall of the cave as he sat facing Iwaizumi. They were trying to make a plan while they waited for the other three to come back. “Knives are our strength, but we need more than that.”

“I know. We have to get to the middle. There’ll be more weapons there.” Iwaizumi leaned his head back, but looked to the entrance of the cave wearily.

“I don’t think we’re that far. If we left soon it’d probably only take a little bit. And it’s probably best to travel in the dark.”

“Yeah…”

A loud crack drew them to attention, and they jumped up, ready to fight any intruder. “It’s just us,” Matsukawa said, walking back inside followed by Kindaichi and Kunimi. “Everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” Oikawa said, answering before Iwaizumi could. “We’re trying to figure out what to do about weapons.”

“You can make weapons out of pretty much anything, you know,” Kindaichi said. “We can make poison out of some of the plants that we found out there, and we could make our own explosives too. Kunimi said Shiratorizawa made theirs on their own.”

“They did?”

Kunimi nodded slowly. “Only some of them. The ones in the gun they didn’t, but the ones they threw were just some rewired electronics.”

“Rewired electronics? What kind?”

“They could have taken apart another weapon, or maybe their ear pieces. You just cross some wires the right way and it’ll blow everything around up.”

“Yeah, but where do we get that?” Matsukawa asked. “We only have one gun right now and it still has an explosive in it, so we wouldn’t want to take that apart.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “And taking apart our ear pieces is risky. Probably something we don’t want to do.”

Oikawa frowned as the rest of the team talked. It was true. They really didn’t have much to work with at that moment. But…

He glanced down at his forearm, staring at the already healed cut from when they’d injected a tracking device before the Games even started. _An electronic device._  

Without warning, he pulled out a knife and sliced into his arm, surprising everyone else with the sudden motion.

“Oikawa-san, what are you—?”

“Take out the tracking devices,” he said, twisting the knife to rip the device out of his arm and wincing slightly as he jarred it loose. “They only need them to tell if you’re dead, and since none of us are going to die, it doesn’t matter. Can you rewire those, Kunimi?”

“I can try…”

“Good.” Oikawa finally ripped the device from his arm and wiped the blood off.

Everyone else followed his lead and within moments they had five tracking devices that could become weapons and a plan. They would be ready for what came next.

“You two will be okay here by yourselves for a bit if the three of us head to the middle to look for more weapons?” Oikawa asked, looking down at the fresh bandage wrapped over his arm before focusing on the two youngest again.

“Yeah, we’ll just work on these until you get back,” Kindaichi said. “Right, Kunimi?”

Kunimi nodded, staring intently at the tracking devices like he was trying to figure out what to do first. “Yeah.”

“Check in every hour,” Iwaizumi said, tapping his ear piece. “So we all know what’s going on.”

“Okay.”

And with that, they parted ways.

…

They were quiet most of the way there, remaining alert and on guard the whole time. It was dark out, and the moon was their only source of light. Maybe it wasn’t the brightest idea to travel a far distance at night, but then again, maybe it was better this way. Most teams didn’t do anything at night precisely because they couldn’t be at their best in the dark, which meant that there probably wouldn’t be that many people lurking around waiting for or expecting them.

“What do we do if there are people there?” Matsukawa finally asked. “Sometimes they’ll just wait around for other people to show up.”

“We’ll fight them, then,” Oikawa said. “Best time to do it is probably at night. They won’t be expecting us.”

“Just keep your guard up, we’ll be fine,” Iwaizumi assured them.

They continued whispering plans back and forth as they walked—what kind of weapons to go for, how they’d go in—until something drew their attention.

Oikawa looked behind him, frowning when he noticed that Iwaizumi had stopped. “Iwa-chan, what’s wrong?”

“Sssh. Listen for a minute.”

Sure enough, they heard voices. Voices that were obviously trying to remain quiet and calm, but failed at that, couldn’t hide the frantic and terrified edge to them.

“We’ll never make it! We’re the last two left after that run in with Karasuno and then Datekou. There’s no way we’ll win!”

“Don’t say that,” someone else said. “We don’t have to win. We just have to make sure we don’t get out first. We promised—”

“We’ll be a target! We may have lost Datekou for now, but there’s still Karasuno and Shiratorizawa. They’re way stronger. All we can do is wait to be hunted down.”

“Komaki…”

“You know it’s true, Ikejiri. There’s probably no other team that lost as many as we did. We’ll be an easy target to wipe out first so other teams won’t have to worry about losing for their village.”

“Komaki, stop it. We’ll be okay.” The voice sounded unsure, despite the confident words. “We can make it! Don’t give up!”

The first was silent for a moment. “M-maybe you’re right… Okay!”

Oikawa ignored the rest of the conversation, looking to his teammates. With a smirk and a nod of his head, they followed him forward.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying.” The two boys whipped their heads around from where they had been hiding—crouched behind a large row of bushes—their eyes wide with terror at the mere sight of the three before them. “Karasuno and Shiratorizawa… they’re strong, huh? I think you’re forgetting someone else.”

“I-it’s Seijou,” Komaki muttered, unable to tear his eyes away even to look at his teammate.

Oikawa grinned. “ _We’ll_ be the ones who take all of the other teams down and win. Remember that.” 

And they struck.

…

It was over quickly. There had been nothing to it. Quick and easy and before they knew it, cannons had signaled that the two boys were dead.

Killing was part of survival—the only way to preserve themselves—but it still felt _wrong_ , especially when it was kills like that.

“Let’s move,” Iwaizumi said, making sure his hands were clean of blood. “The cannons probably drew attention. We don’t want to stay here for too long.”

( _Liar_ , Oikawa had said once before when he said something similar to get away from dead bodies—especially the ones he’d had a role in creating—grabbing his wrist and squeezing it tightly. _You just can’t stand looking._ )

“All right…”

This time though, Oikawa didn’t say something like that, and instead moved to his side, falling into step with him. “They wouldn’t have lasted much longer anyway.” He trailed his hand over Iwaizumi’s arm, until their hands brushed.

“I know. It’s fine.”

(Just because he didn’t like killing didn’t mean he wouldn’t do it—and he’d have no problem driving a knife through the heart of anyone on Shiratorizawa.)

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” Oikawa linked their fingers for a brief moment—a quick, ghost of a touch. Barely there, barely visible to any eyes but their own, but still _there_.

“Got it.”

Before he could say anything else, a bright light lit up the sky and a loud voice boomed across the arena for everyone to hear. “The first team eliminated from the competition is Tokonami. Good luck to all of the remaining teams!”

Oikawa sighed, looking up at the sky even after the light had faded. “Well, at least that’s done with. We don’t have to worry about being first anymore.”

It looked like some of the tension released from his shoulders, like the weight of the pressure on him had decreased the slightest bit.

But it would never be fully gone. Not until they won. There was still a long way ahead.

The sky was dark again, but as they moved closer and closer to the middle of the arena, another light was getting closer.

“What is that?” Matsukawa asked.

“We’ll find out in a minute. Come on.”

They moved forward, not stopping until they caught sight of the large metal structure in the center of the arena filled with weapons and supplies. But that wasn’t what drew their attention. No, there was a team sitting there—only four members there at that moment—a fire before them.

“Are they stupid?” Oikawa whispered, leaning forward to get a better look at the area.

Fire was a death sentence here. It drew attention, brought in unwanted presences. What team would be stupid enough to set one in the center of the arena, in the wide open like this?

“That’s Wakunan,” Matsukawa said. “I can see their jackets.”

Wakunan was consistently in the top four every year. It made sense that they felt more confident than some of the weaker teams. But still, pulling a stunt like that was risky, no matter who or how strong they were. There was a difference between being confident and being arrogant.

“They’re asking for trouble, so let’s give it to them,” Oikawa said, the light from the fire refracting off of his eyes—intent and hungry. “I’m still pissed from earlier anyway.”

Iwaizumi found himself agreeing and ready to move forward. But there was still some sort of doubt in his mind. Why would they ever be that confident to sit out in the open like that? A team that made it to the top four nearly every year would never be that stupid, would know something about survival.

That was when it caught his eye. It was almost luck that he saw it. Almost. Not far from them, there was a mound of dirt, like something had been placed under it. It was uneven and bumpy and looked like—

“Wait.” Iwaizumi gripped Oikawa’s shoulder, pulled him backwards. “There are landmines.”

There wasn’t just one, there were at least three that he could see, all in varying positions on the path to where they needed to go, and there were probably more that they couldn’t even see.

 _That_ was why Wakunan had no problem sitting out in the open like that. They were trying to lure other teams to their deaths. And the moment anyone came near all they had to do was duck inside of the cavern with the weapons and supplies, shielded from any explosion. 

“Fuck,” Oikawa swore, surveying the area again. “Now what?”

“Blow one up and sneak in while they’re confused, grab what we can and leave?” Matsukawa suggested.

“It’s risky, but it’s all we’ve got right now.” Oikawa looked at them both. “Just keep your eyes open for the mines. You two go around from the other direction. I’ll blow one up to distract them.”

Oikawa grabbed a rock from nearby, fully concentrating on where he needed to throw it while he waited for the other two to get into position.

It only made sense that Oikawa was the one to throw it. He had the best aim, the most accuracy and control after years of practice—building his skill until he could throw such a deadly strike. His throws were something they could count on, would count on, had to count on. No matter how difficult of a target it was, Oikawa would pull them through.

A breath, a locked-on gaze, a perfect throw—everything fell into place. As soon as that first bang filled the air, they took off running.

There weren’t that many mines—enough where their movements were definitely restricted and cautious, but not enough where they couldn’t take a step without fearing being blown to pieces. They just had to be careful.

Iwaizumi didn’t pay much attention to anything other than the task before him, grabbed what he could as soon as he got inside. But he could still hear the yelling from outside, a cannon going off and signaling another death, running. Everything was chaos. They shoved some stuff into the packs that were in there, taking whatever else they could carry in their arms.

“What the hell?!”

The two of them turned, catching sight of a member of Wakunan staring at them, reaching for his own weapon. Everything moved so fast that Iwaizumi didn’t even really know what happened until it was already over. Without hesitation, he had reacted to the boy behind them, throwing the spear in his hand with such speed and accuracy that it hit the boy straight in the chest.

The Wakunan boy fell to the ground, impaled by the weapon. His breathing was labored, blood seeping out of the wound.

“Nice,” Matsukawa said, barely reacting as he threw one of the bags over his shoulder. “Your reaction saved us both.”

“I guess…” A cannon went off, informing them of the boy’s death. “Come on, we’ve got what we need. Let’s go.”

They ran outside. The area was completely ruined, the ground torn up and destroyed from Oikawa setting off the mine. A few feet away, someone laid dead on the ground, their legs completely gone. Blood was everywhere, all over the ground, all over the dead body. An instant death. Iwaizumi quickly looked away and kept moving forward—quickly, but carefully in fear of setting off more mines—to where they had left Oikawa.

The other two members of Wakunan were gone—either had fled or were waiting for them—so they stayed on alert until they reached the spot they had been originally. But there was no one there, no one to be found.  

“Where’d he go?” Iwaizumi tried to push away the sinking feeling, the worry in his stomach. Oikawa was fine. Oikawa was capable, completely able to handle the other two. Just because he wasn’t there didn’t mean anything.

That was what he kept telling himself, anyway.

The sound of another cannon didn’t do anything to push that feeling away, though. It only increased it. His feet carried him forward without him even realizing it. “Dammit Oikawa,” he hissed through grit teeth.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Matsukawa said, running to catch up to him.

Even though he was right—if Oikawa had been killed, Iwaizumi would have felt it right away, would have felt him fading—it still didn’t really calm him. It wouldn’t help, not until he saw—

There was a body crumpled on the ground a few feet away from them, bleeding profusely from the head. Another Wakunan member.

“What the hell happened?”

Their question was answered when someone swung down from a nearby tree, landed in front of them. “Sorry. They found me so I ran off. I got one over the head with a pretty heavy rock, though.”

Iwaizumi punched Oikawa hard in the shoulder as soon as he straightened up. “You fucking dumbass!”

“Ow! Iwa-chan, what was that—?”

“Don’t just jump in front of us without warning like that. We could have attacked you. And you could have said something about running off.” He sounded angry, but he wasn’t. It was more relief than anything.

“Sorry.” Oikawa rubbed his arm, looked  like he understood. “Didn’t think, just ran.” He looked behind him before surveying what they had gathered. “I don’t know where the other one went. Couldn’t see. It looks like you guys did good though.”

“Yeah…”

“Well… should we head back or stick around and look for that guy? We don’t want him to follow us.”

Either option was a risk. But it would probably be harder to find someone at night when they couldn’t see well and there was a strong possibility of being surprised. Going back and regrouping was the better choice. All five of them stood a better chance together.

“Let’s go back,” Iwaizumi said. “We can just keep our guard up and make sure we’re not being followed. Besides, we won’t stay there for much longer anyway.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

…

“Are you all okay?” Kindaichi relaxed as soon as he saw it was them, slouching back down and lowering his weapon. “We heard so many cannons, and they announced about the first team being out. Was that—?”

“That was all us,” Oikawa said, a little smug, a slight twinge of pride to his voice. He had felt worthless only a few hours before, but not anymore. He was ready to face the rest of this.

“Well, whatever happened, it looks like it was worth it.” Kindaichi looked at the pile of weapons they deposited on the ground before gently shaking Kunimi awake.

“Everything was okay here?”

“Yeah, no problems. We finished up rewiring the tracking devices a little bit ago.”

Oikawa nodded. “Good. All of you, good work.” It had to be the middle of the night, at least. It was crazy, almost unbelievable, that they’d only been in the arena for a day—it felt like so much more had happened. “We’ll take a break for a couple of hours. Get some sleep, eat something.”

Everyone nodded, the exhaustion finally settling in after nearly a full day of moving nonstop.

“We can take first watch,” Kindaichi volunteered, gesturing to himself and Kunimi. “We already took turns sleeping a little bit once we finished with the tracking devices.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Keep an eye out. There’s one more Wakunan member lurking around, probably mad that we killed the rest of his team.” Oikawa stifled a yawn and leaned his head against Iwaizumi’s shoulder as they settled down. “Wake us up in about two hours. It should be dawn by then and we’ll move to—”

Iwaizumi poked him in the side, silencing the rest of his words. “Quit talking and go to sleep,” he murmured, resting his head against Oikawa’s.

He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep peacefully, but at least trying to get some sleep was better than getting none at all. Maybe, for at least a few hours, he could forget everything. Maybe.

…

“Wake up.” Oikawa opened his eyes, a little dazed from the short sleep. When he looked up, the first thing he noticed was that Iwaizumi hadn’t moved from the position they had fallen asleep in, was still holding him tightly.

“Morning, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa muttered sleepily, noticing the faint rays of early morning sunlight creeping in through the opening of the cave. “How’d you sleep?”

“Okay, all things considered…”

“Mmm good…” Oikawa snuggled closer to him, not wanting to face the rest of the world—reality—for just a moment. “Everything okay?”

“There’s a bit of a problem.”

“What now?”

“Turns out there was another Wakunan guy that wasn’t there last night. The two of them that are left are lurking around here now. Kindaichi and Kunimi spotted them.”

Oikawa frowned. “I was wondering about that… because either the one who survived wasn’t the Guide or SL or didn’t have a strong connection with his partner. Otherwise, he would have reacted more to their death.”

“Makes sense… Well, let’s find them, end this, and keep moving.”

“Okay,” Oikawa murmured, squeezing Iwaizumi’s waist one last time and pressing a quick and light kiss to his jaw. One that was over in seconds. It was still weird to have the world watching their intimate moments, after all.

Iwaizumi understood, squeezed his shoulder gently before standing and pulling him to his feet.

Everyone was gathered at the mouth of the cave, looking outside and waiting for instruction on what to do next.

“What do you think they’re doing?” Matsukawa asked. “Do they really think they can beat us two against five?”

“No, probably not,” Oikawa answered. “Maybe they figured they’re done and want to take out as many of us as they can.” Honestly, that’s probably what he’d do in a similar situation—if he was that angry and desperate.

“Why not just drop out, though?” Kunimi asked. “They’d be safe, so why not?”

That _was_ a good question. Most teams would in their situation. But come to think of it… “Iwa-chan, has Wakunan ever dropped out before in any other years?”

“Now that you say it, no. Not that I can think of anyway.”

Matsukawa frowned. “So their village has a no dropout policy or something?”

“Maybe.” That would explain a lot. It either had to be something like that or just plain stupidity. Stupidity or tenacity or maybe a little of both. But even the most determined and tenacious people had to realize when the odds were completely stacked against them. Survival was an instinct that was hard to go against, after all, especially when a perfect chance at it was right in front of their faces. “Well, let’s not let them get to us, okay? Let’s go.”

…

They stuck close together, on alert, ready to move if attacked. Wakunan hadn’t shown themselves yet, but were sure to soon.

It looked like Oikawa was growing impatient waiting like this, though. He was fidgeting the slightest bit, continually repositioning his grip on the dagger in his hand while they walked. Iwaizumi didn’t blame him. Waiting like this made him feel anxious too, and could be a fatal mistake. It was probably best to initiate the attack, not wait for one that could surprise them.

Oikawa must have thought the same because seconds later, he was yelling out taunts to the hidden enemy. “You might as well give up! There’s no way two of you stand any chance against the five of us.”

The rest of the team looked at him, a little surprised, but understood what he was doing. Thankfully, they were all able to understand what was going on most of the time without questions. It made their teamwork much smoother, much more difficult to break apart. That made them a force to be reckoned with, a threat.

“Do yourselves a favor and quit now! You’ll just die like your other teammates anyway!”

Seconds later, someone jumped out from among the trees, pointing a gun directly at their group and shooting it frantically. It was easy enough to dodge—attacks made in pure anger or haste usually were the easiest to avoid.

There was more rustling—twigs snapping, feet pounding against the ground, scurrying through the branches and bushes—as they all saw two figures take off running toward a clearing. One ran to the left while the other went right.

“Split up,” Oikawa instructed, sparing them all a quick glance. “We have to watch the back if we head up there, in case they try to surprise us.”

They all moved quickly, Oikawa—followed by Kindaichi and Kunimi—taking off toward the clearing from the left, while Iwaizumi and Matsukawa came from the right.

They had the boy in sight—he wasn’t that far ahead of them—but because he was running they couldn’t get in a good enough shot to hit him. Still, they tried. Matsukawa shot his gun again, but missed. “Damn, he’s fast!”

“We’ll catch him, come on!”

They burst into the clearing a few moments later, gaining on the boy. Iwaizumi stopped abruptly, held out a hand to stop Matsukawa too.

“What?”

One of the members of Wakunan was holding Kunimi, arm wrapped around his neck tightly, standing right near the edge of the cliff. One misstep would mean a deadly fall.

The boy’s teammate—the one they had been chasing—wasn’t far from them, also looking at the scene in awe as his teammate yelled out threats.

“If any of you take one step closer, I’ll jump and take him with me! I don’t even care about dying as long as you all lose something too!”

Kindaichi had his gun aimed straight at the boy, a panicked look in his eyes as the fear of losing his partner set in. No matter what he did, a bad outcome could occur, was a possibility.

“Kindaichi.” Oikawa’s voice was reassuring, strong, as he searched for a way out of this. “It’s okay. Do what you have to.”

“But Oikawa-san… I can’t! I can’t!” The boy’s panic was more and more evident—the way his voice quivered, the way his gun shook in his hands the slightest bit, the desperate look in his eyes.

“You can. Shoot it. It will be okay.”

“What part of _don’t move_ don’t you get?!” the boy cried. “Go ahead! Shoot it if you want to lose your teammate!”

Iwaizumi grit his teeth angrily at the words and pulled out a dagger. No one else from their team would die. There was no way he’d let that happen. He was far enough off to the side where he could get a good enough shot in, and the boy wasn’t paying to him attention at all, was more focused on Oikawa and Kindaichi than anything else.

So he actually raised the dagger to throw it, predicting it would hit the guy right in the neck. But when Oikawa looked over his way, their eyes meeting briefly—like he knew what Iwaizumi had been planning—he held up a hand, signaling him to stop.

“Kindaichi, it’s okay. You can do it.”

“But what if I—?”

“It’ll be okay.” Oikawa was looking at Kunimi, and it looked like he was telling him, gesturing for him, to do something. “Just trust me and shoot.”

“Do it, Kindaichi,” Kunimi said. “It’ll be fine.”

“You all are insane!” the boy yelled. “I can’t believe—!”

Everything happened all at once, was a blur. Kunimi stepped on the guy’s foot while he was distracted, ducking down as soon as he escaped his grasp. As soon as Kunimi was out of the way, Kindaichi shot the gun, hitting the boy square in the chest.

The boy stumbled backwards, lost his footing and fell off of the cliff. If the gunshot hadn’t killed him, the fall would.

As soon as the cannon went off, they all heard the screams. The other boy, who had been helplessly watching moments before, was curled up on the ground—clutching his head and screaming incoherently, tears streaming down his cheeks.

They all stared for a moment, frozen in place. This was an outcome they had known about, but that didn’t change how much it hurt to see someone go through that. Iwaizumi shut his eyes for a moment, not even wanting to think about what it would be like to feel Oikawa die, to feel him be ripped away so suddenly.

Oikawa turned to Kindaichi, looking at the gun. “Can I—?”

Kindaichi handed it to him quickly and Oikawa walked over to the final member of Wakunan, pointed the gun at his head and pulled the trigger.

 _Breathe_ , Iwaizumi told himself. _Breathe._ And he let out the breath he had been holding. It had been so loud moments before—the boy’s agonizing screams still echoed in his head, honestly, but silence overcame them the moment the cannon went off.

Oikawa lowered the gun, looked away from the body on the ground. “Everyone okay?”

They all murmured an affirmation, still a little shaken up. Of course, they had suspected that the two left had been Guide and SL, but seeing that reaction was daunting.

(Seeing it once was enough to give someone nightmares for a lifetime.)

“Oikawa-san, thank you,” Kunimi said. Kindaichi was by his side, relieved, holding onto him tightly. “I—”

Oikawa shook his head, looking to the two youngest members of their team. “Don’t thank me. You two are the ones who did it, after all.” He gave the boys a slight smile and patted their shoulders. “We’re a team, okay? I’m not going to let anything happen to you guys.”

And they smiled back, nodded. “Right.”

There was an announcement that Wakunan had been eliminated, drawing their attention once again. “It’s a shame that they had to come across us this early,” Oikawa muttered when the announcement was over. “They’re a top four level team. But by now everyone should know that we’re completely serious about winning.” _We’ll do it._

He looked at the rest of them, a determined look in his eyes. “We should head back and then move somewhere else.”

Iwaizumi moved to Oikawa’s side as they headed back, brushing against him slightly. Oikawa looked at him. “You okay, Iwa-chan?”

“Yeah. You?”

“I think.”

They’d seen reactions like the boy from Wakunan’s one too many times. The last thing they wanted was for that to be them, and it was always a lingering fear in the back of their minds—no matter how confident they felt.

He nudged Oikawa’s shoulder lightly. “We’ll be fine.” _I promise that won’t be us._

“I know.” _I promise too._

They would keep moving forward. It was all they could do. And soon enough, they wouldn’t have to worry about keeping all of these promises, of constantly reassuring each other that they would not only win, but live too. Because they would do it. They would.

…

The days passed quickly. More and more teams were either being eliminated or dropping out, and the numbers were dwindling down quickly. Only the best remained by the end of the week.

But a smaller pool of teams meant that targets were limited and the stronger teams finally had to start going after each other.

“There are only four teams left.” Oikawa stood from where he had been crouched in front of a stream. He and Iwaizumi had gone off together to get water.

“Crazy, huh? What are you thinking we should do?”

“I’d rather not do anything and let Karasuno and Datekou wipe each other out so we could take Shiratorizawa,” Oikawa said. “But that’s probably an unlikely outcome.”

“Yeah…” Iwaizumi frowned. “We’re so close… only a little bit more.”

 _We can do it._ “I know.” He gestured for Iwaizumi to head back with him. “Karasuno and Datekou are both strong, and they both have all six members still. We have a disadvantage facing them.”

“That doesn’t matter. We can beat either of them.”

“Yeah, but—” A rustling nearby cut off his words. They were alert, waiting for an attack, ready to fight.

But then it was quiet. There was nothing. They couldn’t see anything or anyone.

“Come on… let’s go,” Oikawa murmured, pulling on Iwaizumi’s hand. “There could be someone else out there waiting. We need to—”

It all happened so fast. A knife flew in their direction, someone jumped out, trying to hit them, ready to attack.

They both reacted, moved, at the same time, jumped out of the way of the knife. As soon as they were safe from that attack, they were alert, on guard, ready to fight.

“Damn, I thought I had you.” The boy straightened up. He was from Shiratorizawa—if the jacket hadn’t given it away, the confident smirk would have. “Ushiwaka-san was right about you two… being in sync, I mean.”

Oikawa scoffed, burning with anger at the mere mention of Ushijima talking like he knew them. “He doesn’t have better things to do than talk about us, huh?”

The boy shrugged, twirling another knife around in his hands—so overly confident and completely enjoying this that Oikawa wanted to take the knife and shove it through his damn chest for thinking they were just some game. “He told me—told all of us, actually—that if we found you we could kill you. I’m glad I’m the one who did, I’ve been looking for a challenge.”

“You think you could?” Iwaizumi spat. “You think you could take on both of us and win? You’ve got another thing coming if—”

The boy laughed, humming softly, “Mmmm, I wonder which one of you I should go for. Either way will be satisfying since the other will probably break down when I kill one.”

Oikawa’s blood boiled at the words, and he shot Iwaizumi a sidelong glance, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. “He’s talking about killing us right in front of our faces, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi laughed darkly, just as infuriated. “Let’s wipe that stupid smirk off his face and show him he messed with the wrong team.”

Oikawa nodded, tightened his grip on the knife he had pulled out when they had been ambushed. “Mmhmm. That’s only fair, right?”

“Fair, huh?” The boy laughed. “Only if you can catch me!” And he took off running. They followed instantly, close behind him.

The boy weaved through the trees, quicker than anyone they had ever seen before, and he called out jabs and taunts behind him. Trying to goad them and make them lose focus was a mistake, his words only made them more determined and propelled them forward.

“You see him?” Iwaizumi asked when they slowed to a stop. They had lost sight of him because he was so quick.

“Not yet. Stay on guard.”

“It feels like we played right into his trap…”

It almost did. Almost. But they still had the advantage, the two of them against one Shiratorizawa member. _They could do it._  

Oikawa tightened his grip on his dagger. “Go right and I’ll go left. We’ll have an easier time if we corner him like that.”

“Yeah.”

They parted ways. Oikawa was alert, eyes searching for the boy. But before he could find anything, a loud explosion went off.

He couldn’t see a thing, not with all of the smoke and the darkness of night starting to settle in, but he still ran forward, heart thudding in his chest, knuckles white from holding his weapon so tightly.

The explosion sounded like it came from the right—the direction Iwaizumi went—and Oikawa ran that way, hoping to catch the enemy from behind. But as he got closer, he got even more frantic. When he heard the loud, overconfident words that resonated somewhere in the surrounding area that he couldn’t pinpoint the exact location of, the frantic feeling only increased, reached its worst point.

“I know exactly what arteries to cut to make someone bleed out.” It was the boy, bragging, arrogant. “Hmmm, I think the leg is a good choice. A nice and slow death… Your Guide will love it, won’t he?”

His heart dropped in his chest, and for a moment he couldn’t move, didn’t think he’d be able to. “Iwa-chan! Where are you?!”

“Oikawa!”

The smoke was a big haze, a hindrance, but he knew he was in the general area. Even if he couldn’t see he would find Iwaizumi and kill that Shiratorizawa bastard. “I’m coming!”

“Hold still!” The boy’s voice was louder, closer, caused Oikawa to feel even more panic at what he’d find when he reached them.

Finally, he made it, stumbled upon them. The boy must have tackled Iwaizumi, was struggling to cut him where he wanted to because Iwaizumi fought back. Oikawa didn’t even think after that, couldn’t think clearly or process it fully, just aimed at the target and threw the knife as hard as he could.

It hit, struck the boy right in the chest, but not at the point Oikawa had aimed for—hit closer to the shoulder instead of the heart. Next time, he wouldn’t miss, and he ran forward with that determined declaration in mind.

The boy looked at him, maybe a little more frantic than before, tore the knife from his chest, climbed off of Iwaizumi and ran. Every bit of him wanted to follow, to follow and end it, but he stopped by Iwaizumi’s side—both relieved and worried. “Iwa-chan? You okay? I—”

“It’s fine,” Iwaizumi hissed in an obvious amount of pain. His hands were covered with blood as he held them over the wound on his leg. The blood was pouring out quickly, had to be stopped. “Don’t worry about me, go catch the bastard!”

Oikawa nodded despite the pit in his stomach, the worry settled there, but he was also infuriated. All of that blood—he’d kill that boy. _He would._

He ran as fast as he could up the rocky hill the boy had taken off to. He was within Oikawa’s sight, but none of his throws would probably get a good enough hit in if he threw at a moving target—especially one as quick as this. But Oikawa was quick too, could move almost as fast, especially when driven by anger and a determination to end this. He was right on the boy’s heels. Maybe he couldn’t get a good throw in but…

When he was close enough, he jumped forward, caught the boy off guard and tackled him to the ground. The trajectory of his jump was quick, forceful, sent them both crashing forward over the other side of the hill and falling into an uncontrollable heap. He banged his knee hard against the jagged boulders and felt something twist the wrong way when it hit against the hard rocky ground. But he contained the hiss of pain, still kept his hold on his target, slammed him hard to the ground and held him in place.

The boy laughed, didn’t even seem fazed. “You really are something, pulling a stunt like that to catch me!”

Oikawa ignored him, moved to stab him quickly and end it, but the boy was quick and tried to stab him first. But he dodged the erratic sweep of the weapon, grabbed it and twisted it out of the boy’s grasp and threw it to the side.

“Awfully serious, huh? What? Mad that I hurt your _boyfriend_ like that?”

The anger was back, stronger than ever, almost blinding. He picked up a large rock lying nearby, gripped it tightly. The boy’s taunts filled his ears, and he grew even more angry, unsettled.

“You _love_ him, don’t you? What are you going to do when he dies, Oikawa-san? How will you win then?”

“Fuck you,” Oikawa spat, voice promising danger, destruction. And he slammed the rock down on the boy’s fingers.

The laugh turned to a scream, a cry of pain. “Y-you think you’ll win? There’s no way you could even handle the rest of my team if you could barely take me on!”

“I’ll be the one who determines that.” He raised the rock again, then smashed it down on the boy’s forearm, felt bones cracking under its weight.

But that didn’t stop the kid, didn’t scare him. Death didn’t seem like it bothered him like it would anyone else. “If you’re gonna kill me, do it.”

“I’d rather see something much slower,” Oikawa spat, throwing the rock to the side and twirling his knife around. “That would be only fair, right?”

“The rest of my team is never far, you know. They’ll have heard and be here soon and then what will you do?”

“I said it’d be fair. Doesn’t mean I’d do it that way even though I should.”

The boy laughed again. “He’ll die, you know. Even if it’s not from blood loss an infection will do it.”

Oikawa shut his eyes tightly, had been fearing the very same thing. He needed to get back to Iwaizumi, had to end this.

“And if I’ve done that for the rest of my team, then I don’t mind dying. I at least made it a hell of a lot harder for you to—”

Without a second thought, Oikawa plunged the knife into his chest, shoved it in deep and twisted it. The cannon went off a moment later and he struggled to his feet, wincing as he did so. With a look of disdain, he turned away from the dead body. “Bastard. Hope the rest of your team gets the message not to mess with us.”

He stumbled away quickly, but left the knife in the dead boy’s chest—a message for Shiratorizawa when they found him, a message that they all would meet the same fate when they crossed paths again.

…

Oikawa stumbled back to where he’d left, Iwaizumi, chest heaving and a slight limp in his step. Pain shot through his knee every time he took a step, but he ignored it, more concerned about Iwaizumi’s injury than his own.

“What happened?”

“I took care of it,” Oikawa said. “Killed him. Hopefully the rest of them will get the message.”

“You’re limping.”

He shrugged off Iwaizumi’s concern. _Be concerned about yourself for once_ , he wanted to shout. “I banged my knee. Don’t worry about me, though. You’re the one bleeding.”

“I’m fine.”

“And so am I,” Oikawa snapped, getting frustrated. He sighed, realizing that bickering with each other over this wasn’t going to help anything. They couldn’t stay out in the open like this for much longer. Not with Shiratorizawa likely wandering around nearby.

(For once, he was glad that Shiratorizawa was arrogant enough to feel that they could split up and still take down anyone. Because if they had all been together this could have turned out a lot worse than it already did.)

He knelt down next to Iwaizumi. “Can I see?” He raised his hand, tentative—afraid to touch, afraid to even look in fear of what he might find.

“Here…” Iwaizumi moved his hands from where they had been applying pressure to the wound, letting Oikawa look at it.

It was still bleeding—definitely not as heavy as before, but blood was still flowing at a slow pace. He bit his lip, trying to push down the worry that had come forward full force. “Iwa-chan, it’s deep,” Oikawa murmured after a moment, his voice quivering the slightest bit. “And it’s still bleeding…”

“It slowed down a lot though.” Iwaizumi put his hands over the wound again, applying more pressure to try and stop the bleeding. They had to stop the bleeding.

Oikawa pressed his hands over Iwaizumi’s to increase the pressure. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I should have—”

“Shut up, it’s not your fault. Quit blaming yourself for everything that goes wrong. I’d hit you if I could right now…”

Oikawa choked out a laugh, strained and forced. “Good. Glad to see some things never change.”

But in the back of his mind dangerous thoughts were threatening to push forward, nagging him. Injuries were always bad, could break a team apart, especially one like this where they had to deal with blood loss and the risk of infection. Iwaizumi was an important part of their team, someone they could count on, who they needed to support them. If he couldn’t walk…

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. We’ll figure it out.” But it looked like Iwaizumi had been thinking something similar if the look on his face was anything to go by.

A soft beeping caught their attention, and they looked up to the sky to see a package floating toward them. Something from sponsors!

There weren’t a lot of things sent from sponsors in the Games. It usually only happened if a team’s village gathered enough money to send them something. But sometimes toward the end, people from other villages would be invested enough in the outcome to want to donate to other teams that they wanted to win.

Oikawa struggled to his feet, moved to grab the package, hoping it was something that could help get them out of this mess. As soon as he opened it, he saw a note and some rolls of bandages. The note was in Mizoguchi’s handwriting, a quick scrawl. _“You two have a lot of people talking out here. Keep it up and give them what they want to see so we can get you some medicine.”_

What they want to see? You two? That would insinuate only the two of them over the rest of the team. Maybe because they were Guide and SL they were bound to get the most attention or…

Or maybe it was because they were _together_. The thought hit him suddenly. They hadn’t really been doing anything different than usual—hadn’t tried to draw any attention at all—but apparently their steady movements had caught people’s interest.

Romance wasn’t something guaranteed in the Games. It only factored in sometimes, even though a lot of Guide and SL pairs were together, and only sometimes it caught on with the viewers. One year a while back a couple—and a fake one at that, created as a strategy only to drum up buzz—were carried to the end through good sponsorships and viewers’ investment in their wellbeing.

It wasn’t an ideal strategy, one he didn’t really think much or care about, but Oikawa was willing to try anything to win. And he’d do anything to have a chance at keeping Iwaizumi with him. There was no doubt in his mind—no hesitance, only determination—as he walked back over to Iwaizumi, crumpling the note in his hand.

“What is it?”

“Some bandages,” he said quickly, kneeling back down and trying to think through how to do this. “Did the bleeding stop?”

“Yeah, I think it finally did.” Iwaizumi frowned at him. “What’d the note say?”

Oikawa shrugged. “Just Mizoguchi-san being weird like usual.”

“Oh…” Iwaizumi didn’t seem to buy it, but dropped it nonetheless.

It was silent for a moment. The perfect time to try anything. What they want to see… he’d give it to them. “Iwa-chan…” Oikawa leaned forward, cupping Iwaizumi’s cheek, their lips meeting in a kiss.

Even though this was mainly supposed to be for the cameras, it was something he needed too. They hadn’t kissed since before entering the arena. But now, a week later, it was welcome, it was safety, it was comfort… it was home.

Iwaizumi wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. He probably had caught onto what Oikawa had planned—he always seemed to—but still, this was something they both wanted. It was by no means fake. Everything about it was true and important— _theirs_.

He never wanted to lose this. 

Oikawa broke the kiss, but didn’t pull back, their noses brushing against each other’s. “We’ll be okay,” he said, loudly enough so the cameras could hear. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

“Okay.” He tangled his fingers in the back of Oikawa’s jacket, holding him tightly. “Me too. I promise too.” And their lips brushed against each other’s again.

Moments later, they heard beeping. Another package. It had worked.

…

 _You’re smart_ , Iwaizumi wanted to tell Oikawa. _You’re so smart._

He had figured out what Oikawa was doing almost immediately after he had done it. And it was fine, a little weird to have the world watching them, but they needed to do something. Any strategy to get them ahead was a good one.

But what had started as a way to play into the viewers’ hands, to try and benefit themselves, had turned into something used to reassure them—to draw them back together, to keep them strong.

“We got some medicine,” Oikawa said, relieved when he walked back over to him.

“Good… we should hurry up and get out of here, then.”

“I know.” Oikawa worked quickly, but carefully, unwilling to make a mistake. Iwaizumi noticed the way his fingers trembled the slightest bit, wondered what he was thinking about.

He had gotten accustomed to knowing what Oikawa was thinking, to being able to figure it out even if Oikawa tried to hide it. That was a benefit of knowing each other, of being together for so long. It was almost effortless, like reading a familiar and cherished book for the umpteenth time.

Even though he couldn’t always figure it out exactly, he could usually get a general idea, could try to fix what he could based on what he knew. This time, he wasn’t completely sure, but he imagined that Oikawa was thinking of what ifs and doubts. What if this didn’t work? What if he messed up? What would have happened if they hadn’t gotten help like this?

It was as if Oikawa could feel Iwaizumi’s eyes on him because he looked up, taking a shaky breath. “Don’t… don’t leave. Don’t…” _I need you._

“I’m not going anywhere.” _I need you too._ “We promised, didn’t we?”

Oikawa nodded slowly. “Yeah… yeah, we did.” His fingers were still shaking the slightest bit though, even as he finished up.

“Tooru…”

“What?” Oikawa looked up, his eyes a jumbled mess of emotions. Mostly fear, but there was also anger, determination, confusion.

Iwaizumi grabbed Oikawa’s hand, lifted it up and pressed it to his chest, right over his heart. “As long as my heart is still beating, I’m here.” _I promise I’m here._

And after a moment, Oikawa smiled. An actual smile, one that he rarely saw, but that he loved so much. “I didn’t know you could be so sappy, Iwa-chan.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his face feeling hot. “Dumbass.” He punched Oikawa’s shoulder, but not as hard as he could have.

Oikawa’s smile was still there, though. Soft, lingering, warm. It was a light shining through the darkness, sun warming him to his very bones and chasing away any coldness. _Thank you,_ it said.

He wished he could see more of it, but knew that it was rare. That was what made it precious, worth it. He’d fight to be able to see more of that smile.

“Think you can walk, Iwa-chan?”

“Have to. We can’t stay out here like this for much longer.”

Oikawa carefully helped him to his feet, slinging Iwaizumi’s arm over his shoulder and wrapping his own around Iwaizumi’s waist. As they walked, he noticed the way Oikawa winced the slightest bit at putting pressure on his right knee.

“You’re resting when we get back. No more today.”

Oikawa nodded, not putting up a fight. “Fine, but so are you.”

After walking for a while, they finally reached where the rest of the team was, and were met with their surprised and concerned faces.

“What happened to you two?” Matsukawa asked, worried look on his face as they walked into the cave.

“We had a run in with someone from Shiratorizawa. We’re okay, though.” Oikawa helped Iwaizumi sit before depositing his pack on the ground and sitting too. He leaned back against the wall of the cave, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Are you both going to be all right?” Kindaichi asked.

“We’re fine,” Iwaizumi assured them, giving them a strained smile. “We’ll be fine.”

They seemed worried still, but convinced enough. It was dark by then, and Matsukawa offered to take first watch so the rest of them could get some sleep.

As they all quieted down and settled themselves, Iwaizumi turned to look at Oikawa sitting next to him. He had rolled up his pants, was examining his knee. It was bruised, badly bruised, but thankfully not swelling. To stretch it out, he bent it and then straightened it again, only wincing slightly at the motion.

“Stay off it until tomorrow,” Iwaizumi said. “Don’t strain yourself.”

Oikawa looked at him. “Okay. I’ll check your leg again when we wake up.” He scooted closer to Iwaizumi. The night had brought in the cold, and huddling together was the best way to stay warm. Curling his fingers into Iwaizumi’s shirt and leaning against him, Oikawa breathed a soft sigh. “Go to sleep, Iwa-chan.”

“Okay. You too. We’ll worry about everything else tomorrow.” He wrapped an arm around Oikawa, feeling the other boy relax against him.

When Oikawa nodded against his shoulder, he shut his eyes, letting the exhaustion overtake him and welcomed sleep.

…

Oikawa stirred against him in the middle of the night, loosening his grip on Iwaizumi and lifting his head to look around. A loud announcement was blaring, a bright light from outside illuminating the cave. All of the commotion had jarred them from sleep.

“Datekou has dropped out of the competition! Congratulations and good luck to the final three teams!” And then the light went out, the noise died down and it was dark and quiet again.

“Three of us left,” Oikawa murmured, looking at Iwaizumi with bleary eyes. “We’re almost there.”

There was so much anticipation built up inside of him at the mention of that. Only two teams they had to get past and they would win, would be safe. His heart pounded in his chest just thinking about how close they were. “I know.” Iwaizumi shifted his position, curling his fingers into Oikawa’s hair and resting his cheek against the top of his head. “Go back to sleep, okay? We’ve got a lot to be ready for tomorrow.” 

“Mmm… kay,” Oikawa murmured sleepily, leaning against Iwaizumi again and closing his eyes. Moments later, his breathing was even and soft, signaling that he was asleep again.

“Kindaichi, do you want me to take over your watch?” Iwaizumi asked the younger boy.

“No, it’s fine, Iwaizumi-san. You can go back to sleep.”

Okay, thank you.” He leaned back down against Oikawa. After pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head and pushing away thoughts of what was to come, he finally fell asleep—fingers stroking Oikawa’s hair gently, Oikawa’s grip around him tight—to the sound of his partner’s soft breaths and the feeling of his beating heart.

…

He woke with a strange, unexplainable tightness in his chest. Worry, he would say normally—that tended to be present a lot. But no, this was different. It was foreboding… the feeling that something was going to go wrong, that their perfectly laid plans would fall apart, their promises ripped to shreds.

The feeling didn’t go away—not with the assurance that his injury had closed up, looked much better now and the medicine had numbed it enough where he could move freely, unrestricted; not with the knowledge that Oikawa’s knee was okay, that it didn’t hinder him and with some of the extra medicine they put on it he couldn’t feel any pain at all. No, the feeling was still there.  

And it only increased when Kindaichi and Kunimi came running back from surveying the new area they had moved to with some information of what they had found. “Karasuno is nearby,” Kindaichi said. “We followed them back and saw where they’re staying.”

The wicked grin that Oikawa usually reserved for Shiratorizawa was there in an instant. It wasn’t quite the same, but it said that he considered Karasuno as powerful an enemy—someone he wanted to take down. “Well, now would be the perfect time. They’re probably tired from fighting against Datekou and could be injured. We need to take advantage of that.”

Iwaizumi knew there was something else behind Oikawa’s wicked grin, though. Thoughts of another enemy he wanted to knock down, to prove he was better than.

Oikawa confirmed his thought seconds later. “It will be interesting to see Tobio again, huh? We’ll finally get to face him.” _I’ll finally get to face him._

No one responded to Oikawa’s musing, the menacing tone behind his words. They only watched as he walked forward, the smirk never leaving his lips.

“Kindaichi, Kunimi… you sure you’ll be okay with this? You three used to be on the same team after all, and Kindaichi, you were his old SL.”

Kindaichi didn’t say anything, looked like he didn’t know _what_ to say. But Iwaizumi caught a glint in Kunimi’s eye, something they didn’t usually see from him, something that showed a lot about how deep their issues with Kageyama ran, but told them nothing concrete at all. The only assumption that could be made is that whatever had exactly happened between those three, whatever strange relationship they shared left lingering feelings—strong ones. “We’ll be fine, Oikawa-san,” he answered. “That’s all in the past.”

“Good.” Oikawa nodded and turned to look at them all. “I know I don’t live up to Tobio’s natural ability. He completely outscored me on the exam, he’s stronger than I am. But I promise I’ll work with you all. I’ll make sure each of you is able to fight at your strongest and support and lead you the best I can.” He smiled, moved forward. “Let’s go and win this.”  

They followed him, of course they did. Oikawa was able to draw people in like that, to eliminate any doubts they had been feeling, to make them feel strong.

Ironic, really, since Oikawa probably had doubts about himself still lingering in the back of his own mind.

Iwaizumi caught up to him, moved to his side, grabbed the back of Oikawa’s shirt to draw his attention.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he said. “Don’t think that you’re any less than he is. You’re not.” He hated that Oikawa still thought like that, that he still felt inferior and compared himself to Kageyama. He hated that it seemed to be something inherently in Oikawa to say self-deprecating things no matter how confident he seemed.

“I don’t compare to him, though,” Oikawa said, shrugging slightly. “I can fight in my own way though.”  It was added in as an afterthought, as if he sensed Iwaizumi’s anger. But it sounded like something he believed in and that was good enough.

“I know you can. I know you will.”

“And that’s all I need. Let’s go.”

(The foreboding feeling didn’t disappear, but it might have lessened the slightest bit.)

…

Oikawa’s heart pounded as they closed in on Karasuno’s location, as he directed the team, anticipation in his bones, anxiousness under his skin. Karasuno was in his way—Kageyama was in his way. This was his chance. If they could pull this off, they were one step closer to their goal. Only Shiratorizawa would stand in the way.

He’d do it. He swore he would.

That was the thought, the driving force in his head when he threw an explosive down at Karasuno from the tree he had been hidden in. They were unsuspecting, unprepared, scrambled to figure out what was going on.

Oikawa waited, signaling the rest of the team to do the same while the smoke cleared. When Karasuno could see them again, Oikawa leaned against the trunk of the tree he had been perched in, waving down at them—a smug aura nearly as thick as the smoke that had been there moments before surrounding him. His hard gaze never left Kageyama.

“Hey, Tobio-chan. Didn’t think I’d let you get through this without a fight, did you?”

Karasuno reacted quickly. One of them shot an arrow directly at Oikawa, but he ducked behind the tree, avoiding the hit. “I was expecting better than that, you know. I wanted a real fight here.”

To anyone, it would sound like he was fooling around, like he didn’t take this seriously. But it was the complete opposite. He couldn’t be more serious. Taunts and jabs, biting words were just as strong of a weapon as a knife or a gun. They could put enemies on edge—on edge enough to make mistakes, on edge enough to give him time to plunge a knife through their chests.

Karasuno took cover behind the trees, not acting suddenly, planning instead. As if planning would help them…

Oikawa pulled out one of his daggers, swinging it around leisurely, taking his time deciding who to aim for. With a grin, he settled on a short boy with dark spiked hair. He threw the knife watching with glee as a look of shock overcame each member of Karasuno’s faces.

The boy had dodged, and the dagger lodged itself in the tree behind him. It didn’t matter. Oikawa hadn’t been aiming to hit him—he only wanted to shake them up a bit. Even if he had been trying, the boy was so quick, and probably would have been able to dodge such precise accuracy anyway. Which was frightening in itself.

“Mmm you all should pay attention. I won't miss next time.” He smirked, a glint in his eyes that said he wouldn’t.

Because he made flippant comments, digs veiled as threats, no one could tell if he was serious or not, couldn’t tell what he’d do next. Good. Being hard to read was something Oikawa prided himself on, after all. It was a good weapon to have here.

He was still laughing slightly, a grin on his face when he felt it whip past him. Someone called out is name, warning him, but it didn’t matter. It missed.

His right ear stung, though. When Oikawa reached up to touch it, there was blood on his fingers. The dagger thrown with such accuracy it nicked his ear as it flew past his face.

Oikawa’s eyes found Kageyama’s. He looked strong, determined. “And I won’t miss either. Pay attention, Oikawa-san.”

His lips curled in anger, his eyes hard, focused, determined. “If that was how it was going to be, fine. No more playing around. He signaled the rest of his team to attack.

The fight was evenly matched, a lot of back and forth. Most of it was just getting a feel for what was going on, but with each attack Karasuno made, each movement Oikawa observed, he was getting a better idea of how to counterattack. There were a million thoughts running through his head, but he had to collect them quickly, had to develop some sort of plan.

They had to take down central pillars of their team, one by one. Kageyama had the best natural ability by far, but Kageyama was easy to break mentally—Oikawa had done it before—and it would render him useless. The short one, Kageyama’s partner, was a strong force, an unexpected threat, but worked best with Kageyama. Their Guide was a good leader, the SL a stable support. Take those things out. That was all they had to do.

“You have a plan,” Iwaizumi said, loud above the other noise, when they passed each other as Oikawa jumped to another tree branch after throwing another dagger. It wasn’t a question.

“It’s been coming together.” He steadied himself on the branch, ducking out of the way of another arrow. “That shorty fights best with Tobio. On his own he’s probably not as big of a threat.”

“Go for Kageyama, then?”

“And the Guide and SL. They’re the backbone of the team. Break that down and we’ve won.”

“Okay.” They separated as quickly as they came together, their words exchanged and understood instantly.

Oikawa moved forward to another branch. The trees were close enough together, the branches large enough that movement up there was easier. And they had an advantage in the air while Karasuno was on the ground. He brushed past Kindaichi. The younger boy was very obviously frustrated that he kept missing when he shot his gun.

The frustration made sense. Years back Kageyama used to get angry about Kindaichi’s aim, told him if he couldn’t improve it he’d never survive and they’d never be able to pull of combo attacks if he couldn’t do something as simple as aim properly or hit a kill shot.

“Kindaichi.”

“Oikawa-san, I’m sorry, I can’t—”

“It’s okay. Don’t aim to kill if you can’t make those hits. Sometimes it’s best to go for the arms and legs. That makes it difficult for them to fight.”

Kindaichi seemed surprised, like he hadn’t been expecting the assurance or piece of advice. “Okay.”   

“Do what you can, not what anyone else expects of you. It will be good enough. Trust me.”

Kindaichi nodded, readying his gun again, a newfound resolve in his eyes. “I will.”

And when Kindaichi’s next shot grazed someone’s arm, Oikawa grinned, catching the Kageyama’s eyes lingering on the two of them, a surprised expression on his face. Perfect.

“Kunimi, do you still have that poison that you made the other night?”

The younger boy nodded and moved behind the tree so they could talk without being shot at. “Here.” He handed Oikawa the bottle of what he’d made out of the sap of some plants. “Just rub it on your daggers before you throw them.”

“How long does it take to work?”

“A few minutes. Once it enters the bloodstream it reacts and will cause paralysis pretty quickly.”

He smirked and clapped Kunimi on the shoulder before moving back to where he had come from, his plan developing in his head further. “Thanks!”

It seemed that Kageyama _had_ been thrown off his game. He had gotten hit, leg bleeding—from a hit by Kindaichi, no less, which was hilariously ironic. His aim was off, his attacks erratic and throwing off his teammates. The old Kageyama. Any changes were reverting back to normal. _You may be a genius, but you won’t beat me. Not now._

But then everything happened so fast. Matsukawa threw an explosive at a distracted Kageyama. It would have been the perfect hit. Would have resulted in injury or even death had it not been for Karasuno’s SL.

The light haired boy grabbed the explosive so quickly it was hard to believe—like it was on pure instinct. And he threw it as hard as he could, right back in the direction it had come from. The time delay between the hit and explosion was enough.

“Watch out!” A futile attempt to warn him. It exploded midair, right in front of Matsukawa. He hadn’t even had time to move.

 _It will be all right. It will be all right. He’s fine. Has to be._ Oikawa moved forward, through the thick smoke, but the sight before him was horrifying enough to jerk him to a stop.

Everything was frozen. No one moved. The explosion was enough to hurt, to kill even. But the force behind it was what had done the real damage. Matsukawa had been blown backwards, straight into the sharp tree branch that impaled him. He was slumped over, burned, bloody, dead. No chance of survival.

He felt sick. He felt sick, but pushed it away. The bottle of poison shook in his hand, his fist clenched so hard that his knuckles were white. _Look away. Look away now._

But when he looked at Karasuno anger clouded everything. Oikawa hated losing any of his teammates, had broken his promise to them that none of them would die. Karasuno would pay.

A silent apology and promise they’d win later, and Oikawa’s intense focus was back. “Iwa-chan, can you cover me while I do this?” He held up the poison.

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi’s voice was forceful, just as angry, held the same determination to win. “Get ‘em back.”

“I will!”

He nodded, finally swinging down from the branch and onto the ground. “Kindaichi, Kunimi, let’s go!”

Those three could handle the fight on the ground. They would back him up, cover him. Oikawa quickly grabbed two daggers—his last two—and dipped them into the bottle, covering them in the poison liquid. He jumped from branch to branch, until he was low enough to jump out of the tree. Two shots. Only two shots. He would make this count.

But his first shot, the one at Karasuno’s Guide, missed. Only by a hair, but still a miss. _Fuck._ He quickly looked to the SL, that feeling of anger overtaking him again. _He_ had been the cause of Matsukawa’s death. It was only fair, it was only fair to give him the same.

And when the boy was distracted helping a teammate, Oikawa threw. Perfect aim, perfect accuracy, perfect speed. It would be a direct hit.

“Suga!” Someone shoved the boy out of the way, but got struck by the shot instead, right in his lower back. The strength behind the throw was enough to embed the knife in his back, blood slowly seeping out around the wound.

It hadn’t gone as planned, but it was good enough. At least someone had been hit.

“Asahi!”

“I’m fine! I’m fine, keep fighting!”

_Not for long._

Even though the fight continued, a few moments later he heard what he wanted to. A sharp, surprised cry. “I can’t feel my legs!”

It was the deciding blow. Karasuno had been in disarray ever since Oikawa’s attack hit, an evenly matched fight turning to a one-sided one. But this pushed them over the edge.

Oikawa stopped, let them move to help their teammate. It was over. Anyone could see it was over. Done. Finished.

“Fall back!” their Guide yelled. “Cover and fall back!”

And they retreated.

Oikawa held out an arm to stop Iwaizumi from moving forward. “Let them go.”

“We’re not following?! After they—!”

Oikawa gripped his arm tightly. “They’re going to drop out. Their teammate will die if they don’t. And if for some reason they didn’t, they’d be easy to pick off. They’d lose no matter what. I’m sure they know that.” He frowned, looking in the direction Karasuno had gone. “We have to win. It’s pointless to waste our energy and get injured dealing with them when we have something bigger in our way now.” _Shiratorizawa._

The others seemed to accept his explanation, didn’t say anything that said otherwise.

Oikawa looked up in the trees at Matsukawa, hating that someone else had died on his watch. The hovercrafts would be coming soon to get the body. It wasn’t something he wanted to see or even think about. All they could do was make up for the death. “We’ve got to win now. We’ve got to.”

“We will,” Iwaizumi said, and Kindaichi and Kunimi voiced their agreement.

Oikawa nodded, finally looking away from the horrifying sight, looking back at his remaining teammates. “Let’s go.”

…

Not much later a loud announcement drew their attention. “Karasuno has dropped out of the competition! Our final two teams are Shiratorizawa and Aobajousai. Good luck to you all!”

One more. One more thing was in their way. It was a big obstacle, one they’d never been able to touch before. But they’d do it this time.

Oikawa could already see victory within their reach. He just had to grab hold of it and yank it out from under Shiratorizawa to make it his own. Their own.

After all these years, it was almost here. Their chance would not be squandered. Not without a fight.

…

The knife fell from his hand, the clatter of it against the ground excruciatingly loud over the absolute silence. It was as if he was the only one there, the spotlight completely on him.

And it was. Because Oikawa had beaten out the competition, was the one standing at the top. Ushijima was dead, by Oikawa’s hand. He had done it… he’d won. They won.

It hit him all at once, the feeling almost crushing. He didn’t know what to say, what to do—couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. It was almost unbelievable. Almost.

“Tooru!”

He turned and saw Iwaizumi smiling, happy, arms wide open for him. And Oikawa ran forward, jumped into his arms and nearly sent them toppling to the ground. But he didn’t care. They had won.

_They had won._

His eyes burned, tears pricking at the corners of them and threatening to spill out. “Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan, we did it! We won!” He pulled back from the tight embrace and leaned in to press his lips against Iwaizumi’s—their first kiss made on a fulfilled promise. No more maybes or uncertainties or fears of being able to keep their word because they had done it. Finally.

But something was wrong. There was a sticky substance on his hands. Blood. “Iwa-chan!” he choked out frantically, pulling back to see blood smeared all over his hands, watching as it poured from a wound in Iwaizumi’s chest. No. No! This wasn’t supposed to be happening!

“Sorry Tooru… I’m sorry…”

Happy tears turned to desperate ones, shaking hands reached to stop the sea of blood. “You can’t leave! You promised! Hajime, you promised! Don’t leave me!”

The weight against his head was crushing. It felt like someone smashed his head in, had cut him open and was ripping part of him away. He couldn’t think of anything but the pull getting stronger, the pain increasing with each and every moment. This was what it was like to feel someone die.

His sobs and screams were becoming more and more incoherent, frantic as he tried to do something. Anything. He had to. _He had to._

But then someone grabbed his shoulder and Oikawa turned, seeing Ushijima looming over him sword in hand. How—?

“It’s over,” he said simply before plunging the sword into Oikawa’s chest.

.

.

.

He jolted awake, bolted upright, hand gripping his shirt tightly—holding on as if to see that there was no blood, no injury, that he was all right. His breaths were short and quick gasps as he tried to suck in air—to prove he was alive.

“It’s okay.” Iwaizumi put a hand on his shoulder, holding him steady. “You’re fine.”

They had learned a long time ago that this was the best way to deal with nightmares. Don’t ask, don’t bring it up, just assure each other that it was okay. Then if they wanted to talk, they could.

(It never fully pushed the fears away, never completely healed the scars left behind, but it always seemed to be enough.)

Just looking at Iwaizumi and knowing that he was still there—alive, safe. It was enough. It would always be enough.

Oikawa’s heart was still racing when he laid back down, but he felt a little calmer, not as frantic despite the horrible nightmare, despite the fact that something like that could easily become a reality. He laid his head in Iwaizumi’s lap—how they had been positioned since Iwaizumi took his turn to watch. A shaky sigh escaped his lips as Iwaizumi’s hand trailed through his hair. “I’m fine,” he repeated, more of an assurance to himself than anything else, really.

“Good.”

There was rain pouring down outside, heavy and strong. It was the type of day where most would avoid the outdoors at all costs. They didn’t have a choice, though.

“When did the rain start?”

“A couple of hours ago,” Iwaizumi answered. “It’s been loud. I’m surprised it didn’t wake you.”

Oikawa was surprised too. He usually slept so restlessly, especially the past week. Only a few hours of sleep here and there to give them some chance at rest, but even then he was always worried, always on edge even while he slept. And nightmares like the one he had just had were something very possible. “Guess I was tired…” Oikawa looked up at him. “We should probably start planning. We don’t want them surprising us.”

“Yeah…”

They woke up Kindaichi and Kunimi and sat in a circle to make their plan quickly. “We have to make the first move,” Oikawa said. “And I think the only way we’re going to be able to do that is through splitting up.”

Iwaizumi frowned. “I don’t like the idea, but I think you’re right.”

“Why do you say that?” Kindaichi asked.

“Because Shiratorizawa knows we work best together,” Oikawa explained. “So they’ll never make it so we can end up facing them together. And they always split up, so our best option is to take them on then. They won’t expect it.”

It wasn’t the best plan, but it was all they had to go off of at this point. Shiratorizawa would probably be getting closer and closer after hearing the commotion from the fight with Karasuno. They had to make a move first.

“Then what?”

He already had that thought out too. “Iwa-chan, you’ll take care of their Guide. I’ll handle Ushiwaka. Kindaichi, Kunimi, you’ll take care of the other two.”

“You two don’t have to go that far from each other,” Iwaizumi assured them when he’d caught the glint of worry in their eyes. “Stay close and you’ll draw them both in and can take them on together.”

Oikawa nodded. “That’s right. Iwa-chan, you know our part, right?”

“I’ll kill him,” he said simply. “And then meet up with you to finish it.”

It seemed like such a simple plan, like it could work. There were a lot of factors they couldn’t be sure of, but this was their best shot. “Yeah. And if you kill their Guide, it _should_ affect Ushiwaka.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got it. I’ll do it.”

Oikawa looked at them—all of them sharing a determined look. A look that said they’d be able to pull this off. “All right everyone, get ready and let’s go. We’re ending this today.”

…

Kindaichi and Kunimi already headed off, leaving the two of them standing alone, expected to split up and take their own ways. They had moved from the cave, walking together, sheltered by the trees until it was time to split up.

Oikawa turned to look at Iwaizumi. “Ushiwaka never strays too far from whoever his Guide is in case they were to get ambushed. So we probably won’t be that far from each other.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi muttered, glancing out at the steadily falling rain from their shelter amongst the trees, feeling a jumbled mess of emotions. Anticipation. Worry. Anger. Fear. “We should get moving…” He continued to move forward.

Oikawa nodded but didn’t move right away, stayed rooted to his spot. “Iwa-chan, wait!” He reached out, gripping the other’s wrist tightly.

“What?” The touch was welcome, reassuring, but at the same time it wasn’t. Because what if this was the last time they ever touched, ever saw, each other? Still, he turned to face Oikawa, knowing that there were things between them that needed to be said before they split apart. 

Oikawa took Iwaizumi’s hand, resting it over his heart. It was like he knew what Iwaizumi was feeling, probably did.  “As long as my heart is still beating, I’m here.”

He nodded, feeling a lump rise in his throat. He had said the same thing to Oikawa not that long ago, but now it was something he needed to hear too. A reassurance, a promise. “Right. So don’t give up, no matter how hopeless it seems.” Iwaizumi ignored the way his voice quivered the slightest bit, as if he was afraid that this, that staying alive, was a promise he couldn’t keep, and he pushed back that sinking feeling in his stomach. _They would be fine._

“I know. I won’t.” Oikawa squeezed his hand. “You too, okay?”

“Tooru, I…” 

Oikawa leaned forward, hugged him tightly. “Come back… alive, Hajime. Please come back alive.”

“You know I will.” And as soon as he pulled back from the embrace, he pressed his lips against Oikawa’s.

This time, it was for no one but themselves. It was what they needed. Iwaizumi didn’t care if the whole world could see them. That didn’t matter, not when _their_ whole world could shatter in one instant.

They held onto each other tightly, still wrapped in the embrace even after they had broken the kiss. “Promise me. Tooru, promise me you’ll come back alive too.”

Oikawa seemed surprised. He was usually the one who asked for confirmation on their promises. Iwaizumi didn’t usually ask for that as much. But this was different. This was the biggest fight of their lives, what they had been building up to for years. He needed to hear it, to know. 

“I promise,” Oikawa whispered, squeezing Iwaizumi tightly. “I promise, Hajime.”

That was enough. It calmed his nerves, reassured him. They were strong. They were strong and they could do this. Together.

“Keep in touch, okay?” Iwaizumi said when he and Oikawa finally broke apart. “I’ll finish and get to you as quickly as I can.”

“I know.” Their hands brushed one last time, fingers locking together for the briefest of moments until they were separate, taking different paths—their hands no longer linked.

But that didn’t mean the promises between them would fade. No, they would keep every single one. They’d fight to be able to find their way back to each other, to be able to hold each other again, safe and sound, away from all of this after their goal was fulfilled, when it was all over.

It was something they could— _would_ —do.

…

“Iwa-chan, I found him.” Oikawa leaned over from his cover amongst the trees to take a better look at Ushijima. He was farther up ahead in the clearing, near a large stream. The heavy rain had died down, the sun starting to peek out from behind the clouds.

“I found mine too,” Iwaizumi said through his ear piece.

“Let’s do this, then. Careful, okay?”

“Yeah. You too. See you soon.”

They didn’t say anything more. Oikawa moved forward quietly, grabbing one of his daggers. He could get in a good shot. Easily could, if Ushijima by chance didn’t notice him. Then he could start this in his favor…

The moment the dagger left his fingertips, he knew it was a perfect throw—one that would connect. But he was wrong. Ushijima turned, using his sword to deflect the dagger’s course, sent it clattering to the ground. “Oikawa,” he said blankly, looking him over while Oikawa recovered from the shock.

Ushijima’s motions had been inhuman, so quick and precise that no one could probably ever replicate something like that. That throw would have hit anyone else, anyone but Ushijima.

“I figured you’d be the one to show up,” Ushijima continued, voice flat.

Oikawa scoffed. “Still as presumptuous as ever, then?” The shocked expression that had taken over for a brief moment was replaced by the smirk on his lips. “Oh, and I’m so honored that you saw us as enough of a threat to target us first. But I’ll have to make you pay for that. One of my teammates died.”

“You’ve killed two of my teammates. I’ll make _you_ pay for that.”

“Something we agree on? Never thought I’d see the day!”

Ushijima moved first. Swift, sword aimed directly for Oikawa’s chest. But Oikawa was just as quick, dodged it.

Oikawa was at a disadvantage with only daggers and a gun. Those would be difficult to fight Ushijima with. But he was quick, he could dodge, and then he could get in a hit. Calculation. Planning. That was all he needed. Keep a level head, and he’d be fine.

He jumped out of the way again and again, narrowly avoiding hits and getting sliced open. Ushijima was smart, Oikawa would give him that. He knew Oikawa was best long range and wouldn’t let him use that to his advantage. Wouldn’t relent on his attacks.

Stubbornly not relenting meant he was more likely to make mistakes, though. It meant he could do something rash, hasty. And that would be the opening Oikawa needed.  

There was a tree not far behind him. If he kept moving backwards, he’d hit it and be cornered. _Don’t lose your head. Focus._ His back bumped against the tree, but it was okay. He wanted it this way, his eyes focused and dagger ready. _Wait for it._

Ushijima drew the sword back, tilted it up the slightest bit. Aiming for a shot straight through Oikawa’s chest. His heart.

The moment he lunged, Oikawa was gone. He had ducked quickly and moved out of the way. And with a quick, almost erratic motion he shoved his dagger into Ushijima’s shoulder. Twisted, yanked it out. Jumped backwards, new knife ready, body poised to fight. Waiting.

Blood began to seep out of the wound in Ushijima’s shoulder. It wasn’t deep, wasn’t enough to kill. But it was enough to hinder him the slightest bit, to show that this wasn’t a one-sided fight, and that was all Oikawa needed.

The sword had become embedded in the tree with the force behind the attack. If Oikawa had been standing there still, he would have been hit with that attack full force. When Ushijima moved to yank it out, Oikawa threw his dagger. It nicked Ushijima’s cheek, drawing blood.

Even Ushijima seemed surprised, reaching up and touching the wound on his face, pulling away with a bloody hand. And there suddenly was a look in his eyes other than the usual blank one. It was determined, intent, showed that he took this seriously and was ready to fight.   

“Still think I’m not a contender? I’ll shove the next one right through your heart!”

“If you can!” Ushijima ripped the sword from the tree, stalking toward Oikawa again. And Oikawa was ready too but the loud cannon signaling a death stopped them both.

He held his breath, praying it was no one from his team. But when he looked at Ushijima’s face, he saw a slight twinge of pain there, some sort of reaction as he reached up to touch his temple. Had—?

“Tooru. It’s done.” Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi’s voice in his ear was such a relief. “Did it work?”

Oikawa frowned. Ushijima had barely reacted—had shaken his head and pushed away the slight contortion of pain on his face from moments before. It was nowhere near the reaction someone had when their partner was killed. Of course. It could never be easy. “Not at all!”

Maybe it was because Ushijima had a different person working with him every year—they never had a chance to form a bond that most Guides and SLs did when they spent years working and training together.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi swore, frustrated. “Set off the signal. I’m coming.”

Ushijima was back to being completely unaffected, was running toward Oikawa, a newfound anger and determination in his eyes. “Got it,” Oikawa choked out, moving out of the way quickly. “Got it!” He pulled out the explosive he and Iwaizumi had agreed to use as a signal and threw it on the ground behind him, hoping Ushijima would get caught up in it.

He didn’t. Of course not. Ushijima was too smart for that, was too talented to be taken out by something as simple as an explosion. But at least it had gone off. At least Iwaizumi would be able to see where he was.

The smoke made it difficult to see, but Oikawa ran forward, trying to recover, trying to think of something to do. His knee ached. All of this running and jumping and moving around in addition to what he’d already done the day before was really taking its toll. But he pushed past it and moved forward. He had to.

He looked behind him, trying to catch sight of Ushijima, but saw nothing. Maybe it was the smoke. Maybe it was—

A shot was fired from his left, and he swerved out of the way, narrowly avoiding it. But his feet slipped on a rock near the stream, sweeping him off his feet. He slammed onto the ground hard, blinded for a moment by the shooting pain in his knee that traveled up his leg. Twisted it. He had twisted it. Tears blinded his vision, but he still moved, still struggled to get up.

If he had been faster, he probably wouldn’t have felt a foot on his back, shoving him back to the ground.

And then he was yanked up again by his arm, crying out in pain as Ushijima’s foot pressed harder into his back.

“Tooru! Hey, are you okay? I heard—” The earpiece was ripped from his ear and broken, his only form of communication gone.

Ushijima leaned in close, voice menacing, murderous. “Your SL killed my Guide. Let’s see how he likes it when I kill you.”

“Fuck you!” Oikawa choked out, struggling to break free. “You’ll—!” His words were overtaken by a scream escaping his own lips as his left arm was wrenched backwards. The pressure of Ushijima’s foot was on his back pushing him forward while his arm was being ripped backwards. Pain. Agonizing pain. It was all he could feel.

A loud and definitive pop of his shoulder was all he could hear, even over his cries at the slowly inflicted injury. And as quickly as it started, he was shoved forward again, landing face down in front of the creek. The fingers of his good arm brushed against the cold water, and he dug them into the ground, struggling to stand up again. He had to move. Had to do something. His left arm would be of no use, but he could still fight. He could.

Ushijima grabbed him by the hair, dragged him forward so he was even closer to the water’s edge. “I’d do the same to your other shoulder too, but I’m a little pressed for time with your SL on the way. This will do.”

“You’re not going to win!” Oikawa kicked and struggled and fought. He wouldn’t give up. He wouldn’t give up like this without any fight.

“You wasted your chance at living, congrats. Maybe I’ll think of you when they crown me as winner.” And before another word can be exchanged, or another blow connected, Ushijima shoved his head into the stream.

Water filled his mouth and nose. He struggled for breath, tried to kick himself free, to swing his arm, anything. But Ushijima’s hold was absolute. He couldn’t escape.

He was pulled from the water, gasping for air, but then immediately shoved back under. He tried to hold his breath, still continued to fight, but nothing was working and he couldn’t even think. Couldn’t think of how he could possibly get out.

He wasn’t sure when he stopped moving, when everything sort of settled. He couldn’t breathe. All he could see was the murky depths of the water as his head was shoved further and further in. He was trapped. No air. No chance. Nothing.

He would die. He was going to die.

There had been no intention to give up, but everything felt so heavy. His limbs, his mind, his whole body. Water filled his lungs instead of air. He’d die a slow watery death. It was over.

Maybe there was still some hope that the rest of the team could pull it off. Maybe they could, even without him.

 _I’m sorry_. _I’m so sorry._

And his eyes fluttered shut. He let the heaviness win out. Through the darkness he could see a faint light. He wanted to reach out toward it, but it was too late.

There was no chance, nothing left.

_Nothing._

…

Iwaizumi had been running toward where Oikawa had signaled when he heard it through the earpiece. It was a cry of pain, definitely Oikawa’s, and his heart immediately dropped, stomach twisting in worry.

“Tooru! Hey, are you okay? I heard you. Just hang on! I’m not that far and…” He stopped when he heard static in his ear.

“Tooru?”

Nothing.

“Tooru?!"

 _Nothing._ The static was just as bad as any silence. The unknown was agonizing.

“Come on, Tooru! Fucking answer!” He wasn’t expecting one, not when their form of communication was so obviously broken. He unconsciously picked up the pace, his heart thudding in his chest.

Oikawa was fine. He would be fine, safe. He always managed to pull through and this would be no exception.

Still, he ran faster, as fast as his legs would carry him. He ignored the ache in his leg from where he had been cut the other day—and as he ran and worry began to overcome him more and more it was very easy to forget about any pain he felt.

His head began to ache. Dull, barely there. It sparked his worry the slightest bit, but he kept calm. Immediately jumping to the worst conclusion wasn’t going to help him at all.

But when the ache became stronger, definitely noticeable, more and more painful, panic began to set in. His head was pounding. It felt like someone had hit him hard and he was feeling the aftereffects. And it was only getting worse and worse with each step he took.

 _Fuck. Fuck._ His hand shot up, grabbing his head as if holding on would soothe some of the pain. It wouldn’t, though. Couldn’t.  

Oikawa was dying. Not a quick, instant death. It was a slow one. One where the pain built gradually until it was unbearable.

He had to do something. He had to! His vision was blurred—either because of the pain or the tears that had filled his eyes and started to slip down his cheeks.

Losing Oikawa was not an option. Absolutely not. He wouldn’t let it happen.

But the screaming pain in his head said otherwise. Slowly a part of him was being ripped away. Until there was no more. Until he was alone—alone and empty and broken.

_Run. Run. Run faster! Fucking run!_

_I’m coming. I won’t let you die._

His whole body was trembling. His knees wanted to give out, to force him to the ground to suffer through this agony alone. He wouldn’t let them. He pushed forward, wiped his eyes, held back the screams that wanted to escape his lips, ran despite his body screaming at him to stop.

His only instinct was to reach Oikawa. That was all that mattered. He had to.

Frantic, breathing heavily, he burst into the clearing. Saw Ushijima crouched by the stream, holding something down. Iwaizumi ran forward—black spots in his vision, legs wanting to give out—but he saw him. He saw Oikawa being held under water. Not moving.

The gun was in his hands in an instant and he shot. The bullet hit a distracted Ushijima’s arm. Ushijima immediately let go of Oikawa when he saw Iwaizumi, got up and ran towards him. But before he could do anything, Iwaizumi shot him in the leg, then shot again sending him to the ground. Two good hits. Two hits that would hinder him.  

Iwaizumi didn’t even wait to see what happened, just took off running. He was by Oikawa’s side in seconds, grabbed him and pulled him from the water. His hand was on Oikawa’s heart immediately, searching for a heartbeat, a sign he was alive.

Gone. Gone. No. No, it couldn’t—

 _There_ it was. Faint, but there. He was still alive. _As long as my heart is still beating, I’m here._

But there was no breath. He wasn’t breathing. Would be dead.

Quickly, Iwaizumi moved Oikawa’s head, plugged his nose, pressed his mouth against Oikawa’s and breathed. Sharing his own breath was the only way to get Oikawa breathing again, to keep his heart beating.

Every motion was frantic, held the fear that his attempts to keep Oikawa alive wouldn’t work, that Ushijima would recover and stop him. But he didn’t stop, kept working.  

The ache in his head was beginning to subside the slightest bit. A good sign?

Finally, _finally_ he felt Oikawa stir under him and pulled back immediately. The brunet coughed violently, spitting out water.

_He was okay._

He never felt more relieved. Tears clouded his vision again, but this time, ones of relief. “Tooru?” he managed to choke out.

“I-Iwa-chan?” Oikawa’s voice was hoarse, raw. He looked completely out of it. “Am I—?”

“You’re here. With me. You’re here, you’re alive.” He held back a sob—just squeezed Oikawa’s jacket tightly as he helped him sit, relieved, thankful. “We have to move. He’s not dead. He’ll be here…”

Oikawa held him tightly, still looked dazed and weak, but ready to move forward. “I know.”

Iwaizumi helped him to his feet, let him hold onto his arm for support. “Can you run?”

“Have to.” Oikawa winced as he put weight on his knee, his left arm hung uselessly at his side. Whatever had happened took a huge toll on him.

They ran. Iwaizumi held Oikawa’s arm tightly, helped him move forward. They would figure something out as they moved, couldn’t just sit in the open like that. With Ushijima sure to be furious and after them, they had to move.

“If you have any ideas of what to do, now would be a great time to hear them!”

“I don’t have anything, but we have to do it together. That’s the only way we—Duck!”

He did as Oikawa said, just as a bullet passed over them. They turned. Ushijima stood not far behind them, eyes furious, arm and leg bleeding from when Iwaizumi had shot him. His usual composure was not there. But he was still just as dangerous, if not more so.

Before Ushijima could do anything else, Iwaizumi grabbed one of the explosives—their last one—and threw it. It surprised Ushijima, and gave them a smoke cover so they could move. Iwaizumi grabbed Oikawa’s hand, pulling him behind one of the trees. 

“Cover me, okay?”

“I just said we have to do this together!” Oikawa cried. 

“We are. Draw his attention and I’ll take care of it.” Their usual plan. They could make it work. He handed Oikawa his gun, pulled out a knife instead. “Trust me.”

“Hajime!”

But he already ran forward, moving away from Oikawa to get closer to Ushijima, hoping to surprise him from behind and get a good shot in.

“You two are so predictable,” Ushijima said loudly. “That’s why you won’t win. You rely on each other too much.”

The smoke had begun to clear. Iwaizumi could make out Ushijima, ready to fight—sword in one hand and gun in the other. “If you think splitting up and hiding will do you any good, it won’t!” Ushijima continued. “I’ll find you both and kill you before you even have a chance to try to kill me.”

A gunshot went off near where he’d left Oikawa. More to the left though. The cover of the trees and brush was enough where Ushijima wouldn’t be able to see Oikawa there. But it was obvious that Oikawa was trying to draw him over.

But Ushijima started to move toward the right, trying to predict what Oikawa did. It was a good guess. Most people would shoot one way and run the other if they were trying to create a distraction. But…

Oikawa moved out from his hiding spot, shot at Ushijima while he was distracted. Barely missed. Ushijima’s focus was on Oikawa though, moving toward him. This was the chance.

Iwaizumi ran forward, knife ready, ready to be plunged into Ushijima’s back. But there wasn’t going to be time. He wouldn’t make it there fast enough if Ushijima was to pull the trigger of the gun he had pointed at Oikawa’s face. So he focused, aimed, and threw. It would hit dead center on Ushijima’s back.

Everything was a blur after that. Moved so quickly. A loud shot rang through the air. Iwaizumi’s knife hit Ushijima, but not in the back. In the chest. Because he had turned last minute, not expecting the hit. There was a sharp and shooting pain through his own chest. And when Iwaizumi looked down all he could see was blood.

…

Oikawa’s eyes widened in horror when he saw the bullet pass through Iwaizumi’s chest, watched the blood begin to pour from the wound. “IWA-CHAN!”

Without even thinking, his feet carried him forward. He had to get there. Had to do something! The pain in his head that he had only imagined in nightmares was there. Not as strong, but there. He couldn’t let—

Ushijima stopped him, though. Despite getting hit in the chest with a knife, he still stood strong and powerful, like it hadn’t even phased him. Just what was he?

 _I have to do something! I have to, but how can I?_ His worry, fears, desperation to think of some sort of plan all filled his mind and thinking logically was hard with the ache in his head.

Ushijima pulled the knife from his chest. It hadn’t hit on point, but was between his left shoulder and heart. Over a little more and he’d probably be dead. Blood started to spill from the wound, but Ushijima remained calm, composed. The fury that was there earlier still present, but waned. A smug smirk was on his lips as he jerked a thumb back at Iwaizumi. “He tricked me, I’ll give him that, but he’s as good as dead now. If your face is anything to go by, this will be over in a minute.”

Oikawa looked over at Iwaizumi, crumpled on the ground, bleeding. He couldn’t be dead. Couldn’t. His hand was trembling, tears in his eyes, but he raised his gun, pointed it at Ushijima. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you for—!”

Ushijima laughed and shoved him backwards. “Good luck with that. You have one good arm and leg and will probably break down in about a minute about your precious SL’s death. The chances of you winning are as good as me bleeding out.”

“Fuck you!” Something caught his eye, but he didn’t let Ushijima notice his focus had shifted. He saw Iwaizumi wave his hand at him, look at him, eyes telling him to do _something._ He pointed at Ushijima’s gun that was near where he had fallen and crawled toward it. Oikawa understood.

Together. They’d do this together.

But he couldn’t feel relief at finding a plan. Not when there was a strong chance that Iwaizumi could die… that he was barely hanging on now. This was their only chance, though. He had to be convincing and play into Ushijima’s hand. Had to keep him distracted.

He grabbed his head and collapsed to the ground, screaming out in pain and forcing tears to fall. “NO! No! H-he can’t be dead! H-Hajime you can’t! You promised!”

_Almost there. Almost. We’ve almost got it._

When Iwaizumi grabbed the gun, Oikawa delivered the final blow. He looked at Ushijima, putting on the most convincing act he could—eyes wild and crazy, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Kill me too! Please, kill me too! I can’t… I can’t…!”

Ushijima frowned and raised his sword. “If you insist.” He looked at Oikawa, pity in his eyes. “I’d say I’m sorry it has to end this way, but I’m not. You put up a good fight at—”

A shot resonated through the area. Ushijima stumbled forward both from surprise and the hit to his back. He dropped his sword at his feet and turned slowly, catching sight of Iwaizumi pointing his own gun at him. “How did you—?”

Oikawa reacted quickly. Grabbed the sword and stood, plunging it into Ushijima’s chest, right into his heart while he was so thrown by what had happened. “I told you not to underestimate us,” he spat, twisting the metal deeper into his flesh. “Looks like that was your biggest mistake.”

He ripped the sword out and Ushijima fell to the ground. His eyes were full of something Oikawa couldn’t place. A mix of anger, sadness, fear? “Dammit,” Ushijima choked out. “Dammit. I… I lost…”

The cannon went off as blood pooled around his body. Oikawa barely looked, only for a second to make sure this was real, that Ushijima was really dead, before he dropped the sword at his feet and ran forward, finally able to reach Iwaizumi.

The announcement rang loud in his ears. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the winners of this year’s Games: Aobajousai!”

They won. They had done it.

“Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan!” Oikawa was by his side, grabbed onto him. “Are you—?”

Iwaizumi looked tired, weak, but he still forced a smile, grabbed Oikawa’s hand with his bloodied one. “We did it. We won,” he gasped out.

“We won,” Oikawa repeated, tears impossible to hold back. He squeezed Iwaizumi’s hand tightly. “ _We won_.”

Iwaizumi shut his eyes, gasping out, “I-it hurts… I… I can’t breathe…”

“We’re getting help!” Oikawa cried, clinging onto Iwaizumi’s shirt tightly like he’d never let go. He could hear the planes above them, coming down to take them from the arena. “Just stay with me. Please, stay with me! You promised you’d stay!”

“I know… I will…” It didn’t look like he could. Blood was everywhere, Iwaizumi looked pale, weak, like death was right around the corner.

_…Maybe it was._

“Don’t leave me either. Tooru, don’t…”

 _Where were they?_ Oikawa held him tighter, trying to push the fear away. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere!”

“… Good…” But Iwaizumi shut his eyes, head lolling to the side.

Oikawa shook him gently. “Iwa-chan? Iwa-chan! Don’t—” The shooting pain in his head was back all of a sudden, full force. He held Iwaizumi tightly, as if that would will him to be all right. “Please just hang on! Please!”

Someone grabbed him, tried to pull him away from Iwaizumi. A bunch of people in white suits. Medics.

“Help him, not me!” Oikawa screamed frantically, the shooting pain getting worse and worse. “He’s dying!”

He hadn’t realized he’d been holding onto Iwaizumi so tightly until someone had to pry him away. He was dragged backwards, toward the plane, watching frantically while other medics took care of Iwaizumi. His own sobs and screams were all he heard, his whole body shook with fear as he was pulled further and further away from Iwaizumi—physically and mentally. “Hajime!”

_They had won._

But it wasn’t supposed to be like this. They shouldn’t have had to worry about dying anymore when they’d already won the Games. They had to survive now. Had to. Something pricked his arm and Oikawa slumped forward, his head still pounding as darkness overcame him.

 

_But when it’s over, I’m still awake_

Oikawa jolted awake, looking around frantically and wondering where he was. His expectation was to still be in the arena, to have awoken from some horrible dream and realize that there was still more he’d have to go through in order to win. But that was wrong. Hadn’t he won? That was real, wasn’t it?

The room was a little dark—the only light peeking in was that from the overcast sky that he could see through the small window. The bed was uncomfortable, but better than sleeping on the hard ground or leaning against a wall. He lifted his left arm to rub his eyes. Wait, what?

His left arm no longer hurt anymore, he could move it freely again. The medics had fixed it, popped it back in place and healed any other damage. To test things further, he bent his knee. It felt normal. Completely normal to move. It was almost like the injuries hadn’t even happened, were only figments of his imagination. Almost.

He really had gotten out of the Games alive. Not only alive, but as a victor. 

The door opened and he jumped in surprise. Irihata and Mizoguchi walked in, followed by a doctor.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Mizoguchi said, grinning at him. “We were wondering how long you’d sleep. It’s been over a day.”

That long? “When can I leave?” He wanted to get out of this confined room, wanted to rip all of the medical equipment off. To find Iwaizumi. To make sure this was real.

“Hold on, Oikawa-kun.” The doctor smiled at him, a practiced, controlled expression, not real. He didn’t smile back, just looked at her. “Let me just check a few things. You had a lot of injuries, you know.”

As if he could forget.

She continued, listing off his injuries in a matter-of-fact tone. “You badly dislocated your shoulder and ripped some of the tendons there, tore ligaments in your knee, were almost drowned, and had the usual cuts, bruises that most people get during the Games. I just want to make sure your recovery is going well.”

But he didn’t care about that. He was so anxious, nervous. He had to know if Iwaizumi was okay. If the rest of his team was okay.

“You were amazing.” Mizoguchi’s praise took him by surprise. The man was smiling as if he had been the one to win. “Everyone is so proud of you.”

Irihata nodded in agreement. “You really pulled it off, Oikawa. And you gave them quite a show. Great job.”

The doctor nodded in agreement as she poked at his shoulder. “I believe congratulations are in order.”

“Where’s Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked, ignoring their praise. “Is he all right?”

They were all silent for a moment, which made him fear the worst, but Mizoguchi finally spoke. “He’s fine. They had a lot to fix up, especially with the gunshot at the end. That surgery lasted a while, didn’t it? I think we may have lost him twice…”

Oikawa felt his heart drop in his chest, a wave of panic overtaking the uneasiness he already had been feeling. “What!? Is he—?”

“Iwaizumi is fine now,” Irihata assured him, shooting Mizoguchi a glare for being unable to keep a filter on his words. “You both are safe. You have nothing to worry about.”

Nothing to worry about, huh? That was strange to hear. For the first time in years, he didn’t have to worry about anything. “And what about Kindaichi and Kunimi? Are they—?”

“They’re both fine. Only a few injuries. Those two put up quite a fight at the end.”

He’d have to check up on them later, thank them. “Can I go and see Iwa-chan?”

“Only if the doctor clears you.”

He looked at the woman. She was checking something with his knee, but finally looked up. “It seems like your recovery has gone nicely. I’ll have to keep an eye on you to make sure everything stays like this, but for now, you’re cleared. Free to go.”

He nearly jumped out of the bed. “Which room?”

“Down this hallway and to the right. It’s all the way at the end. Room 304.”

He muttered out a quick thank you behind him and was off to see Iwaizumi.

Everything after they’d been taken from the arena was still a blur, kind of hazy, but it was coming back to him slowly. There were bits and pieces from the end he remembered too vividly, things he didn’t want to remember—having to be forcibly removed from Iwaizumi; his fingers shaking; the blood sticky and warm on his skin; the agonizing pounding in his head, the crushing weight; the clawing desperation for Iwaizumi to live.

As he walked down the hall so many people he didn’t even recognized started talking, called out congratulations, nodded in approval. One man even stopped to shake Oikawa’s hand, which had been weird, a completely surreal feeling. He forgot that so many people were affected by what he did in the arena. But after so many congratulations and praise faces and words started to blur together. All he wanted a moment of peace, allowed his feet to carry him forward without his mind even really knowing it, drawing him like a magnet to where he wanted—no, needed—to be.

He passed Kindaichi and Kunimi in the hallway, huddled together, heads lowered near each other so their hushed whispers wouldn’t reach anyone but each other. Their fingers, bruised and bandaged, rested near each other, a breath away from touching, and their thighs brushed as they sat, probably as more of a lifeline than anything—an assurance that yes, they had made it out and they were safe. Oikawa remembered feeling similar after his first time in the Games.

(But feeling relief at safety after your first time in the Games was fleeting. Surviving only meant risking your life again next time.)

The two looked up when he walked by, and he caught the brief flash of fear, of desperation, of emptiness in their own eyes, and he remembered—remembered all too well—that this was what the Games did. The Games forced them to grow up, forced them to fear that there might not be a tomorrow if they weren’t successful. The burden of being responsible not only for their own lives, but for their teammates’, and every single soul in the village, was crushing. It was a powerful avalanche that there was no escape from.

He felt sick looking into their faces.

“Oikawa-san? Are you—?”

He jolted back to attention at Kunimi’s soft voice, which wavered the slightest bit as he spoke. The two younger boys were looking at him, seemed unsure, like they didn’t know what to say, like they didn’t know what to do, like they were looking for guidance.

Yeah, he was familiar with that feeling too.

“It’s fine,” Oikawa heard himself murmuring, waving their concern off. He smiled—one that was much more forced than sincere—and rested his hands on both of their shoulders. “You two did well. Thank you.”

The younger boys shared a glance quickly, still looking a little scared, jolted, but that was something that lasted for a long time.

“You should rest up,” he continued. “We all took a pretty bad beating.”

They nodded, and Oikawa patted their shoulders again, another silent thank you for all they had done, a reassurance that they would be all right. As he turned away, he wished there was more he could do for them. They were good kids. Good kids who still had a long road ahead of them. Their experience was just beginning while his was ending.

Despite his exhaustion, Oikawa’s feet carried him forward—like they always had—until he reached the hospital room he had been looking for. He sucked in a breath, tore the door open and stepped inside slowly, almost afraid of what he’d find, almost afraid he’d wake up and none of this would be real.

Iwaizumi was sleeping. And he deserved it. They both did. Oikawa tiptoed to the side of the bed, biting his lip as he looked down at its occupant. He couldn’t help the memory of the horror he felt in the arena that bubbled up as he stared at Iwaizumi’s face, caught sight of the bandages wrapping around his shoulder. In the arena, he’d felt what he had only heard about from horror stories of the Games, what he had witnessed in front of his own eyes twice. He had felt Iwaizumi dying, just like he was sure Iwaizumi felt him dying.

They had almost lost each other, he had literally felt Iwaizumi fading, pulling away from him, and thought it would be over, that everything would have ended right then. True to form though, Iwaizumi had pulled him out, rescued him from the fears that crippled him, still managed to fight even when he was near death himself. It was because of him that they won, that they were able to pull it off together. Even when it seemed like there was no hope, he had been the one to keep Oikawa from retreating within himself, from falling into a deep downward spiral that he’d probably never come out of. Again, Iwaizumi had saved him.

“Thank you,” Oikawa whispered, the words ghosting past his lips without him even realizing it. “Hajime, thank you.”

“What’re you thanking me for, dumbass?”

For the second time that day, Oikawa jumped in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting… “Iwa-chan! I didn’t know you were awake! How are you?”

“Mmm, just woke up.” He looked at him with tired eyes. “I’m fine. Tired and sore, but fine.”

Oikawa nodded, felt a familiar burning behind his eyes—the one where he was about to cry. “Good. I’m glad. Mizoguchi-san said that… that they lost you twice during surgery… I-I was so scared when I heard…”

Iwaizumi frowned. “Yeah, I heard about that. I can’t—” He shook his head as if he was trying to push the thoughts away and looked at Oikawa again. “It’s okay now, though. We’ve got nothing to be scared of. It’s over. We’re safe.”

Oikawa managed what he hoped was a laugh, but sounded much more like a sob. “Yeah, we won. I can’t believe we can finally say that.”

Iwaizumi nodded, as if he was also unable to believe it. “You should be resting, you know. Your arm got ripped out of its socket and—”

“They already cleared me and said I could come here.” Oikawa looked at the chair near the bed before looking back to Iwaizumi. “Is it okay if I—?”

“Stay?” Iwaizumi nodded. “Yeah, of course it is. I want you to.”

Oikawa sat in the chair next to the bed, rested his hand near Iwaizumi’s. Instantly, like it was almost automatic, their fingers tangled together. An assurance, a comfort, an “I’m here, I’m alive.”

“Don’t do something so reckless again,” Oikawa managed to get out, even though his throat felt raw, even though he was trying to choke back a sob and could feel tears burning behind his eyes as his mind flicked back to the end of the Games. “I was so scared. I thought I was going to lose you.”

Iwaizumi squeezed his hand. “Sorry… I won’t.”

“Good.” He laid his head down on the bed, shutting his eyes for only a moment and trying to force down the tears that were getting harder and harder to hold back. Honestly, he didn’t know if they were tears of happiness, relief, disbelief, exhaustion—all he knew was that they were there, water ready to break through a dam. The moment to try and compose himself really did no good, and he knew he probably looked just as bad when he looked at Iwaizumi again and choked out a pained whisper. “…I felt you dying. I could feel you leaving me.”

“I could too, you know,” Iwaizumi managed after a brief moment of silence that felt more like an eternity. “When he was… the whole way there, I could feel it. And then you weren’t breathing… I thought there was no chance of…”

“I’m here,” Oikawa murmured, just as much for himself as it was for Iwaizumi. “We both are.”

Iwaizumi must have been able to hear the tears in his voice, the way it cracked because he let go of Oikawa’s hand, moved over on the bed. “Come here.”

Without hesitation, he did, climbed into the uncomfortable and too small hospital bed and wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi—gentle, soft, careful of any of his injuries, like he was afraid hugging too tightly would cause him to break.

As soon as they were settled, laying face to face, arms wrapped around each other, it was only natural that they leaned in closer. And their lips met in a kiss. Soft, affectionate, slow. It said everything they needed, wanted, to hear—promises of I’m heres and I love yous, assurances of safety. Iwaizumi’s fingers brushed against Oikawa’s cheek, his hand cradling his face, while Oikawa’s fingers tangled in the back of Iwaizumi’s shirt, holding on tightly. He never wanted to—couldn’t—let go.

This was their first kiss on a fulfilled promise. They had fought, they had survived, they had won. They had beat Shiratorizawa, kicked them from the kingdom and took the crown as their own. They were together, safe. Damaged, hurt, but safe. Everything they had said they’d do, they did. And for the first time in so long, Oikawa felt content.

“It’s going to be okay now, you know,” Iwaizumi said when they broke apart.

Oikawa nodded. “I know that. And even if it’s not, I have you, don’t I?”

He brushed his hand over Oikawa’s jawline, caressed his cheek. “Of course you do.” 

“Good.” The urge to cry wasn’t as strong anymore, but he was exhausted, stifled a yawn. Even though he had slept for the past day, he was still so tired from the week in the arena where the emotions and adrenaline running through his veins had driven sleep away. It had been days since he had slept properly, without fearing for his life.

“Go to sleep, okay. You deserve it. We both do.”

Oikawa shook his head, trying to keep his eyes open. “I don’t wanna. I just got to see you again and—”

“Tooru, go to sleep,” Iwaizumi murmured, brushing his fingers over Oikawa’s face one last time before they moved to trail through his hair. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Oikawa sucked in a breath. Before this, words like that would not have been guaranteed. They spent most of their lives fearing they’d lose the one thing that mattered most to them, the only thing either had left. Still, he couldn’t help but fear that they would never have that guarantee of safety, even though their time in the Games was officially over. “You promise?”

“I promise. Now go to sleep, dumbass.”

He laughed a little, soft, quiet. “Okay.”

Iwaizumi leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Oikawa whispered, finally settling down and closing his eyes. And for the first time, he felt safe saying so, a kind of warmth spreading over him as he slipped further into sleep, breathing softly as Iwaizumi lazily stroked his hair.

For what felt like the first time, he fell into a peaceful and dreamless sleep. One without worries or fears because they were together, safe. Maybe everything was going to be okay.

…

Oikawa fit in perfectly, looked like he belonged among the blinding lights, flashing cameras, and screaming crowd. Because Oikawa always burned brightly, a beacon of light that drew people in, made them want to follow him. And he grew even brighter with attention—could emit light and warmth even when he was feeling cold and dark.

Iwaizumi wasn’t as good at that, would prefer to have no part of this, but it was an expectation, a requirement. Victors had to be interviewed, asked grueling questions about their experience and their lives. It was tradition. Every surviving member of the winning team had to take part before the Games for that year could be officially declared finished and they could return to their village.

That was how they found themselves seated side by side on a plush couch that felt way more uncomfortable than it should have, in front of a roaring crowd, who hung onto every word that escaped their lips like it was a life force.

Kindaichi and Kunimi were nearby, looking uncomfortable, overwhelmed, and a little lost, while Iwaizumi sat next to Oikawa, their thighs brushing, hands resting near each other’s. Every so often, their hands would brush, and even though it wasn’t much help, the little bit of contact was somewhat of a relief. An assurance that this was real, that they made it here together.

The fake, calculated smile never left Oikawa’s face, even as the questions started.

(Were they supposed to force smiles?  Did victors smile? What did they say? How did they answer these questions?)

He suddenly wished he paid more attention to these interviews in the past because he wasn’t really sure of anything, was just going on instinct and the desire to finally have this behind them—to go home to a warm and familiar bed that wasn’t a hospital room with the ever present reminder that they nearly had their lives ripped from them.

Oikawa was laughing with the reporter, commanding total attention, forcing everyone to look at him—forcing them to want to look at him. “We’re all okay now… we’re happy we won.”

“It was a good competition this year,” the reporter said, smiling like she remembered it fondly—like watching teenagers kill each other was something to be entertained with.

“All of the teams were really strong,” Oikawa agreed. “It was tough, but we really wanted to win… more than anything.”

The rest of them voiced their agreement, prompting the woman’s next statement. “The fight you all put up was amazing. It was one of the best buildups and endings we’ve seen in years. You all really stole the show.” Her eyes were trained on Oikawa and Iwaizumi, a knowing grin on her face.

_Great._

He knew this—them—would get brought up, but while it hadn’t bothered him so much in the Games that people could see their every move, every moment together, now it was so unbearably mortifying to know that people saw, cared, about their intimate moments.

Oikawa had laughed when Iwaizumi asked him if they were addressing it, and told him not to worry about it, squeezed his hand. They both knew it would be asked about, but there still was a naive part of him hoping it would be left alone.

“You both captured many hearts while you were in the arena. And the end had everyone on the edge of their seats.” The reporter had something between a smile and a smirk, like she was planning something. “We never did get to see a happy reunion. Is there any way we can see one now?”

The audience’s screams were deafening, but Iwaizumi could hear Oikawa’s laughter from right next to him, loud and clear, getting closer. A soft, lingering kiss was pressed to his cheek. Oikawa trailed a hand over his arm when he pulled back, reaching for Iwaizumi’s hand. Without hesitation, their fingers tangled together.

“That’s good enough for now, right?” Oikawa smiled brightly, made a show of leaning closer to Iwaizumi.

His face was hot, from the lights, the kiss, the embarrassment. How did Oikawa make this seem so natural?

The woman laughed. “Yes, I guess so.” Then, she turned away from Oikawa, eyes trained on Iwaizumi. “Tell us something about your relationship, Iwaizumi. The whole world is dying to know.”

That was what scared him, but still, he found his voice. “We’ve known each other our whole lives.”

“And?”

His face was red as he managed to get the next words out, “And I… I can’t imagine life without him.” _Wouldn’t want to._

Oikawa squeezed his hand, and when Iwaizumi looked, he saw that his cheeks were the slightest shade of red, eyes warm, happy. It was the first genuine emotion he had seen on Oikawa’s face all night.

“So romantic, Iwa-chan,” he murmured softly while the crowd was reacting. “See, you’re not as bad as you thought.”

Iwaizumi pinched his thigh, breathed out a quiet “shut up” as the commotion died down. All eyes were on them again, and it seemed like they were never going to get a moment’s peace ever again.

The woman held a hand over her heart, and Iwaizumi briefly wondered if she was an even better actor than Oikawa—everything about her was so fake. “So sweet. That only makes sense, with the long history you share. Speaking of, there was word going around that you two—that all four of you, actually—aren’t even originally from Aobajousai. Is that true?” 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi answered. “We’re from Kitagawa Daiichi.”

“Kitagawa Daiichi? The village that was destroyed years back after losing the Games? Then how did you end up—?”

“We got out. Escaped, and ended up in Seijou. That day… they killed our families, destroyed our homes. There was nothing left…”

“Is that why you decided to enlist?”

Oikawa nodded. “We wanted to take down Shiratorizawa as revenge for what they did to us. All we wanted was to beat them, to keep them from winning over and over again.”

“Well, no one can deny that that motivation worked for you, but it’s not really revenge, is it? Not unless you give them the same thing that was done to you paid back in full.”

“…I guess it’s not…” The words physically stirred something in Oikawa because for a second his hand went limp in Iwaizumi’s, and he straightened up the slightest bit, his perfect mask shattered for an instant. There was genuine surprise on his face, as if he hadn’t thought of that before. Iwaizumi could only imagine the thoughts running furiously through his mind, if a comment like that had thrown Oikawa off so much.

Iwaizumi nudged him, causing him to snap back to attention, the slip perfectly concealed once again as soon as Iwaizumi drew him back. He hoped his next words would calm any ridiculous thoughts in Oikawa’s mind. “It doesn’t matter what it is. At the very least, we beat the team that took everything from us. We stopped them from winning and dominating the competition again. We wanted to win, promised we would. And we did, so that’s enough.”

“True enough. I’ve got to say, it was getting boring watching Shiratorizawa win every single year. We’re all glad you made it more interesting for us.” She smiled again. “So… what’s next, then? You’ve won. You did everything you wanted to. What now?”

Oikawa frowned, bit his lip. “I… I don’t know.”

Things were falling apart very quickly, so Iwaizumi cut in. “We haven’t figured it out yet. But we will.”

“Whatever happens, you should be proud of yourselves and what you’ve accomplished.” She smiled, looked out to the audience. “Now, before we can officially pass the crown onto Seijou, let’s watch the highlights from this year’s Games that our editors have put together.”

This was the part worse than the interview—the one where they were forced to watch themselves, watch the people they’d beaten, killed—as it was told like a story meant for everyone’s entertainment. Their lives were merely entertainment to these people. And everyone would watch their reactions, want their commentary.

But as the lights dimmed and the footage from the Games started up on the large screen, Iwaizumi was much more focused on Oikawa, who had shifted closer to him—whether it was unconscious or not, he wasn’t sure.

The audience cheered as the first bit of footage started to play. “You okay?”

Oikawa nodded the slightest bit, squeezed his hand. “Fine.” It wasn’t convincing at all, though.

“It’s almost over,” he whispered, caressing the back of Oikawa’s hand with his thumb. “We’ll worry about the rest later, all right?”

“I know.”

They kept their grip on each other’s hands tight as they reluctantly glanced at the screen, watched their entire team on that very first day in the forest, watched everything they never wanted to relive again play out before their very eyes.

…

“For the last time this year, I present to you the winners of this year’s Games: Aobajousai! Congratulations, boys, you deserve it!”

The crowd screamed, applauded, as a trophy was thrust into their hands, crowns placed upon their heads. A reminder that they had won, that they had done it.

Iwaizumi still felt a little numb, after seeing the Games, after watching their teammates die and the kills they had committed, reliving the pain and fear of nearly losing Oikawa in that damn arena, experiencing himself almost die. And he had to do it all with a straight face.

He wouldn’t sleep that night. He was almost positive he wouldn’t be able to.

It was a little surprising that Oikawa, who had been mostly quiet through the whole thing except for a few comments here and there when asked, who had been so obviously trying to keep up an appearance, was struggling to keep it from cracking, asked the reporter if he could say one last thing before they were done.

“I want to thank my team again,” Oikawa said. “I know… I know that not all of us are here, and I’m sorry they can’t be too.” He turned to look at the three who still were with him, sincerity in his eyes. “Without each and every one of you, none of this would have been possible. Thank you.”

Iwaizumi rested his hand on Oikawa’s back for a brief moment as the broadcast cut off, but pulled away quickly, looked to Kindaichi and Kunimi and put his hands on their shoulders. “Thanks again, both of you. For everything.”

“No, thank you,” Kunimi murmured. “You both… the whole team, we wouldn’t have wanted to work with anyone else.”

Kindaichi muttered an agreement. “We hope we can do the same as you when it’s our turn…”

“Don’t worry, you will. We both know you can.”

They were ushered off stage after that, given permission to finally leave. The Games were officially over. They could go back to their village.

“Winning should feel better than this, shouldn’t it?” Oikawa asked bitterly, brushing against Iwaizumi’s side as they got ready to leave. The trophy was still clutched tightly in his hands, his knuckles white. “Because I don’t feel like I’ve won anything.”

“It’s going to be fine,” Iwaizumi assured him, although he felt similar. Maybe it was from reliving it all, maybe because even though they had won it all felt inescapable to him. Like no matter how far they tried to move forward everything from the past still dragged them down, haunted them.

Oikawa looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t. “What _does_ happen now, Iwa-chan?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, reaching over and prying one of Oikawa’s hands from the trophy, taking it in his own instead. A connection, an assurance, a promise. “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. I promise.”  

…

“Everything still feels so surreal,” Oikawa murmured, flopping onto Iwaizumi’s bed, sprawled out and eyes closed. “It doesn’t feel like any of this is real to me.”

They had only been back for a few days, but he felt like he was on autopilot, like he was just going through the motions of everything with no real conviction. Just existing. Everything felt as if it was moving forward without him really being there. And there was no relief. Never. Every single day was the same—appearances, meetings about the village’s new leadership status, being stopped on the streets, smiled at, asked questions, being expected to act fine, happy. And it all ended with most nights spent awake and shaking from nightmares and painful memories.

It had only been a week since they got out of the arena. A week, and Oikawa thought he had more nightmares than he ever did before.

“I know,” Iwaizumi said from not far away. Oikawa turned to look at him, noticed him try to conceal a pained wince as he moved to pull off his shirt. “Sometimes I’m afraid this is all just another dream and that I’m going to wake up in that damn arena again.”

Oikawa climbed out of the bed, moved to his side and grabbed his hands, pulling them away. “You okay, Iwa-chan?” he asked, concerned as he moved to help him instead.

“Yeah. Still hurts sometimes…” He looked down at where he had been shot, at what was only a scar now.

Oikawa bit his lip as he helped him out of the shirt, remembering two nights ago when Iwaizumi had woken up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. After he calmed down—after Oikawa had held onto him tightly, whispered assurances that he was all right, pressed soft and gentle kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, his lips—Iwaizumi said he had dreamed of being shot again, could sometimes still feel the bullet pass through his chest and the shooting pain, could still see all of the blood.

He threw the shirt to the side, and when he looked back at Iwaizumi it was almost an involuntary action to brush tentative fingers over the wound—the wound that had almost taken Iwaizumi from him for good. 

It had healed, was just a scar now, but scars never went away. Neither physical nor mental ones. They never healed… never would heal. Not completely, anyway.

“You almost died.” It was a breath, barely above a whisper, but Iwaizumi heard. He always did.

“I didn’t, though. I’m right here. I swear, I’m right here, Tooru.”

“Me too.” And he leaned in and kissed him, pressed up close and held on tight. Like he never wanted to let go.

Iwaizumi rested his hands on Oikawa’s hips, fingers brushing under his shirt, warm against his skin, and pulled him in closer.

When the back of his knees bumped against the bed,  he pulled back, breathless—lips swollen and face warm. “Hajime—”

“Tooru…” Iwaizumi brushed his nose against Oikawa’s jaw, pressed kisses to his neck, sucked on the soft skin there.

“I want to know that this is real,” Oikawa breathed out. “Please help me figure it out.”

“I will.”

Lips against lips, skin against skin, beating heart against beating heart. There was no distance between them. The only sounds in the room were soft whispers and sighs, breathing out each other’s names quietly as if they would get caught and executed if there wasn’t silence.

But they weren’t back in the arena. They were here, home. Alive, together.

And every whisper, every touch, every breath proved that this was real. Completely and undeniably real.

…

_I won. I got what I wanted, so why aren’t I happy?_

But happiness was fleeting, wasn’t it? It was a minute in an eternity, and as quickly as it was in his grasp, it was gone.

Winning had made him happy. Being safe had made him happy. But now that it was over, he felt lost and aimless. Unsatisfied.

The trophy and the crown had been everything he thought he wanted. But once he had them, they became heavy, a reminder that yes, they had survived and won, but that everything ending came with a price. Waking up from nightmares nearly every night, constantly looking behind him in fear of a knife to his back, always being on edge, jumping when there was a loud noise—mind immediately flashing to gunshots and explosions and Hanamaki and Matsukawa bloody and dead and gone.

(What part of that was happiness?)

And sometimes, sometimes he’d remember, dream of that night when they were eight years old. He’d see his burning home, have no idea what happened to his father or sister, watch his mother bleed and die in front of him. He’d remember not wanting to leave, but being forced to run, avoiding bullets and soldiers and fire, Iwaizumi’s grip on his hand tight and _there_ , but just as scared as he was.

Maybe it was just that the reporter’s words had gotten to him, but it really didn’t seem fair. It didn’t seem like enough that Shiratorizawa had taken absolutely everything from them—everything but each other—and the only punishment they got in return was watching two kids they had fucked up beyond belief beating their pride and joy after years of holding the crown.

They would never experience the same pain and it _wasn’t fair._

“I’m proud of you, Tooru.”

He whipped around, shocked at what he saw. “Mom?”

It was exactly where he had been ten years ago, his home burning, mother dying right before his very eyes. Blood was everywhere. Everywhere. There was no escaping it.

She reached out and took his hand, blood smearing on his skin. “I’m proud of you, but you’re going to become exactly what they are.”

“No I won’t!” he cried desperately. “I’m not them! I’m not!”

“If you continue the cycle, you are. You’ll be no better.”

Blood. There was so much blood on his hands. “Mom! Mom, don’t! Not again, don’t—!”

He swore he heard her whisper, “Don’t let them get away with it.”

This time there was no running. Fire consumed him. There was no way out. None. None at—

“Hey! Hey, Tooru! Wake up!”

He jerked awake violently, frantically, nearly slamming into Iwaizumi when he sat up breathing heavily, tears in his eyes.

“It’s all right,” Iwaizumi whispered, rubbing his back soothingly. “I’m right here, okay? Whatever you need, I’m right here.”

He leaned forward, hugging Iwaizumi tightly, desperately. “Iwa-chan…”  

But Iwaizumi held onto him just as tightly, held him close, murmuring softly that it would be okay. That he was all right.

Oikawa might have believed him. For at least a moment, anyway. 

But he’d never truly be completely all right ever again, would he? Probably not.

He hated Shiratorizawa for reducing them to this. Hated them for taking his home, his family. For taking his teammates. For nearly taking Iwaizumi. For ripping any bit of sanity he had to shreds.

Something had to be done. 

…

Mizoguchi’s office was too orderly. And he seemed too calm for someone who had been running around ever since the Games ended, basically the one who took care of all of the media and organized everything. He and Irihata acted like they were in some sort of euphoria ever since the Games had ended, but that wasn’t surprising. Most of the village was elated; this was their first win in years, after all. Anyone associated with the winning team was being renowned as heroes.

When Mizoguchi asked them to come to his office that day, Iwaizumi had a pretty clear idea of what the meeting was going to be about. They had won, after all. Life went on. For them, for everyone. 

They had won, but their moment of bliss could only be enjoyed for a moment. Life went on, whether they wanted it to or not. And survival of the fittest didn’t take the wishes of two teenage boys who had just fought for their lives into consideration. Survival of the fittest meant claiming the next victim and moving on until only those worthy stood in the world. Only the best could keep their feet firmly planted on the ground while those who couldn’t were washed away with the blood of their unsuccessful military.

After waiting around a few minutes, the silence between himself and Oikawa unusually heavy, Mizoguchi bustled back into the room after having to leave them for a few moments, apologies filling the silent void. When he sat, he got right down to business, as usual. “As you two know, it’s the winning village’s responsibility to destroy the losing—”

“I’m not doing it,” Iwaizumi said flatly.

Mizoguchi seemed taken aback, like he couldn’t believe that someone who had killed so many, who had contaminated his own hands with blood so many times, was refusing to take part in what they had been working toward for years.

But Iwaizumi never forgot the looks in the eyes of those he had killed. It haunted him, caused him to wake up in a cold sweat more often than not, his heart constricting and the phantom feeling of a blade present in his hands shoving the memories into his head: that he had killed people, that he had done the same that had been done to him. He hated it, didn’t want to feel it ever again.

The man’s brow furrowed. “Iwaizumi, the victors are expected to do this. How do you think it will look if you two don’t participate?”

“I don’t care how it looks,” Iwaizumi spat, fingers digging into the material of his pants. “I won’t do it. Go ahead and do what you have to, but I won’t kill anyone else. I did my part.”

Mizoguchi sighed, looking to Oikawa, who had been leaning against the wall, uncharacteristically silent. “Oikawa?”

“I’m not doing it either,” Oikawa said after a moment.

“I understand that both of you feel strongly about it, but there really isn’t a choice in the matter. Everyone is watching you two now. You’re expected to—”

“Can I suggest a better idea?”

Iwaizumi turned to look at Oikawa, surprised at those words. What idea could he possibly have? Why hadn’t Oikawa said anything to him about it?

But Oikawa didn’t look at him, only looked straight ahead as he spoke, fist clenched. “Instead of taking out Tokonami, we take out Shiratorizawa.”

For a good minute, it was silent. The room felt smaller, no one said a word or even made a sound.

 _What the hell are you thinking?_ Iwaizumi wanted to ask him. It was a surprising declaration, but in some ways it wasn’t. Not after he had seen Oikawa’s face when that reporter had brought up the idea of winning not being enough revenge.

But Oikawa still wasn’t looking at him. Maybe he was afraid of what he’d say, maybe he didn’t care. Whatever it was, in that one moment, Iwaizumi never felt more distant from him.

They had promised no more death after this. No more killing. Why would Oikawa want to do the same that was done to them to anyone? Shiratorizawa or not, innocent people didn’t deserve to suffer through the same things they did. No one deserved that.

“Mizoguchi-san?” Oikawa asked. “Is that—?”

“You mean you want to just throw all of the rules away and wipe out the village of the second place team instead of the losers?”

“It’s beneficial to us and everyone else in the long run, isn’t it? If we take them out they can never dominate the competition for years like that again. Would anyone really have any objections to that?”

“No, I don’t think they would,” Mizoguchi said quietly. “I sure wouldn’t…”

“So does that mean…?”

“It has to get approved here first, Oikawa. I’ll run it by the higher ups and see what they say. There could be a lot of backlash if we did this…”

“But there could also be a lot of support. I think—”

“You’re letting your personal feelings cloud your judgment,” Iwaizumi said, finally inserting himself into a conversation he had been left out of, looking pointedly at Oikawa. “You can’t see anything clearly because this is what you want and you’re going to do everything in your power to make it happen.”

Mizoguchi cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him again. “I’m going to get Irihata-san to talk about this. I’ll be right back.” He stood and walked out of the room, leaving a heavy and uncomfortable silence hanging between them.

Oikawa broke it when he laughed, short and dark. “I’m glad I have you to know me so well, Iwa-chan. Next time I want you to display your findings to the world, I’ll ask, okay?”

“What do you expect me to do? Accept this ridiculous revenge plot just because you have?” He stood up, taking a step toward Oikawa, angry that this was even an option. “There’s a lot I’m willing to do, and put up with, but I’m not killing anyone else. I’m not starting a war just because you think it’s necessary.”

“See, this is why I didn’t say anything to you! I knew you’d get all self-righteous and act like you’re my fucking parent and can tell me what to do!”

He scoffed. “You can do whatever the hell you want, Oikawa. I’m not involving myself in this at all, and I think it’s stupid, but go for it. If that’s what you need to make you happy, then do it. I won’t stop you.”

“Do you think it’s fucking fair that they did that to us and only get off with losing power for a year? Can you honestly say you’re happy? Even now that it’s over, there’s no escaping it! Do you like waking up in the middle of the night feeling like you’re going to be killed at any second? Because they’re the reason for it! They’re the ones who fucked us up so badly that—”

Iwaizumi grabbed his shirt roughly, shook him. “ _Listen_ to yourself, you dumbass! We’re not the only ones this has happened to! Kindaichi and Kunimi… Kageyama, anyone who survived Shiratorizawa wiping out their village, it’s the same for all of us!”

“Then they all should appreciate when I end it and make sure Shiratorizawa can’t ever make anyone else feel this way again!”

Iwaizumi sighed angrily, pulled away from Oikawa. Why do I even bother? There’s no reasoning with you. You’re letting this consume you! I don’t even know what the hell you want anymore!”

“ _You_ should know what I want better than anyone else!” Oikawa yelled. “I shouldn’t have to explain it to you!”

He ignored the pang in his heart at a comment like that. He did know Oikawa, did understand him. Better than anyone else. This was no exception it just didn’t make sense to him. “I know that right now it’s hard. I know that. But it will get better. We did everything we said we would. Why isn’t that enough?” _Why aren’t I enough?_

“Because I want them all to pay for what they did. Shiratorizawa did this to us, they deserve it!”

“You would seriously do the same to them as what was done to us? You'd kill innocent people all for your revenge?”

Oikawa scoffed. “Since when did you gain a conscience? You’ve killed as many people as I have. Innocent ones. Do you think those two from Tokonami deserved to have you drive a knife through their chests, Iwa-chan? Or—”

He grabbed Oikawa by the shirt, slammed him hard against the wall. “Fuck you!”

Oikawa looked surprised for a second—maybe because he said those words in the first place, maybe because Iwaizumi was livid—but it was gone a second later, replaced by a look Iwaizumi never expected to see directed at him. One of anger. Pure anger. “I don’t care what you say! I’m doing whatever I have to. Stay out of it if you don’t agree.”

“Yeah, I will,” he spat. “ _I promise_. Because right now, I don’t want any part of this or you.”

“Fine, I promise too!” Oikawa yelled.

Iwaizumi sighed, shook his head. “You’ve been different ever since we got out of there. You’re letting it overtake you! And right now I feel like I don’t know you anymore. You’re not the person I’ve been with my whole damn life, and sure as hell aren’t the person I _love_.”

Hurt flashed in Oikawa’s eyes for a brief moment, and he opened his mouth to respond, but the door opened and Mizoguchi followed by Irihata walked in—taking in the display before them in surprise—before Oikawa could say another word.

“Are you two—?”

Iwaizumi let go of Oikawa’s shirt, moved away from him. “I’m sorry, Mizoguchi-san, Irihata-san. I don’t want any part in what you all decide to do. I won’t do it. So I’ll be leaving now.”

He looked at Oikawa for one short second before he walked away, noticing the mix of anger, sadness, fear in his eyes. Normally, he’d do whatever he could to chase those emotions away from Oikawa, but not this time. No. This time, no matter how much it hurt to do so, he walked out of the room, leaving Oikawa alone for the first time. 

…

Iwaizumi’s words had hurt. Had hurt more than any wound he’d ever received because they left a lingering, aching feeling in Oikawa’s chest. They were a shock because he never expected something like that to come from him. Ever. No matter what Oikawa did, he never thought Iwaizumi would walk away like he had that day, leaving Oikawa alone.

Their fight had been bad. They both said things they didn’t mean—Oikawa regretted a lot of what he let slip in the heat of the moment—and he wanted everything to be okay, steady again. No matter how bad it seemed, though, it was just a fight. They would talk and make up soon enough. They always did.

But this silence that had overcome everything after was more deafening than a scream, hurt more than a knife to the heart. It was the worst part.

Oikawa flopped down on his bed when he returned home that night—face buried in his pillow as he bitterly thought that this was his first time back in his own bed since he had returned from the Games. The sheets on his bed were almost unrecognizable. _Everything_ was almost unrecognizable. Maybe everything, every detail of a bed, of an apartment that felt out of place, of walls to a home that felt more like an empty room than somewhere he belonged were more noticeable now that he had to be there alone.

(Just because they didn’t agree, would never see eye to eye on this, didn’t mean that he wanted to fight or be alone. But he knew Iwaizumi would never agree with him. He was just as stubborn as Oikawa, wouldn’t back down when he truly believed in something.)

Still… 

His fingers brushed against the wall that was the only border between them. He wondered if Iwaizumi was still awake in his bed on the other side of the wall, wondered if he was feeling similar. The walls were thin, they had talked through them before on nights when they hadn’t stayed in each other’s apartments, when they had trouble sleeping or just needed an assurance the other was there, okay. Maybe…

Oikawa rolled over and faced the wall, brought his fist up and knocked gently. “Iwa-chan?”

No answer—not that he necessarily expected one—but still, he spoke, let the words tumble out. “Iwa-chan… I know you’re mad at me. For everything that happened earlier. I’m sorry. I really am. I said some horrible things.”

He wasn’t expecting a response, but he got one anyway. “An apology from you? How rare. I wasn’t expecting one so quickly.”

“I don’t like fighting with you, believe it or not.” Any fights they had in the past had ended relatively quickly, but for the time they did last the fights put such a strain on them that it was almost painful to be around them, apparently. They acted normal, but didn’t speak, barely acknowledged the other, and days of that were agonizing. “I really am sorry, though. Some of those things I said were completely wrong.”

“Yeah…” He knew Iwaizumi was probably thinking of the comment about killing people, about not having a conscience. It was a low blow, a comment he spat out in the heat of anger that he didn’t mean. Oikawa knew how much killing bothered Iwaizumi, how much it affected him. “I’m sorry too… for what I said and for hitting you like that.” 

Well, at least they were on the same page with that, but there was still the other matter. “I’m not sorry for the idea I suggested, though…” He took a breath before he continued. “It… it’s got nothing to do with you, you know. It’s me. It’s all me. I just… I feel so lost and unsatisfied and I’m tired of reliving every single thing like I have been lately. I need to try and do something to fix that. I want to. Can’t you understand that?”

 “I do understand, dumbass. I really do. I just… I don’t want you to do this to yourself. You’ll regret it.”

“Maybe, but it’s something I need to figure out for myself.”

He heard Iwaizumi sigh, and wondered if this would all blow up into another fight between them. But it didn’t. “And I’ll let you. I don’t agree with it at all, and I want no part in it, but I won’t stop you.”

“You mean that?”

“Yeah, I do. I wish it was different and that you didn’t need to pursue this, but if that’s what you think you have to do, then go for it. Who am I to stop you?”

Oikawa noticed the slight bitter edge to Iwaizumi’s voice, and sucked in a shaky breath, still afraid of what could happen, of what this could do. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we? Please tell me we’ll be okay. I don’t need anything else taken from me because of them. I can’t lose you too.”

“You won’t. We’ll be fine.” Iwaizumi sighed. “But for now, I think it’d be best if we kept some distance, at least until it’s over.”

He didn’t like the idea of keeping their distance, but maybe it was for the best. The subject was touchy, and something they could end up fighting over again, even if they had agreed to disagree. That wasn’t something he wanted. Not again.

“Hey, dumbass? You asleep?” Iwaizumi knocked on the wall softly. “You didn’t answer. Everything all—?”

“Okay.” He ignored, pushed away the slight twinge of pain in his chest, promised to himself that he’d finish this, finish it and try to find some sense of relief, solace. “Goodnight, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi sighed softly. “‘Night Tooru. I’m sorry… I hope you find everything you’re looking for. Really, I do.”

“Yeah, I hope so too…”

They still weren’t completely okay after this fight, but things were better, more on stable ground again. It wasn’t perfect, but it was at least a start. At least they were no longer so angry with each other; at least they had come to some sort of agreement.

He fell asleep with his hand resting against the wall, as if he could reach out and touch Iwaizumi despite the thin barrier between them.

…

“Iwaizumi-san?”

He turned around, surprised to see Kindaichi, alone and looking nervous. “Kindaichi? What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“No… not really.” The younger boy’s fidgeting said otherwise, but that was also common after being in the arena—being fidgety and jumpy and nervous. And that feeling inside never really went away, no matter how well some could conceal it. “You’re coming back, right? You’re going to help the rest of us prepare for our years too?”

It was another thing that was expected of them. Even after their time was over, they were still part of the military. Maybe they’d never have to kill again, but they had to help their younger teammates be able to survive and win too. “Of course I will. What makes you think I wouldn’t?”

“You haven’t been around that much lately. I just thought…”

“That’s got nothing to do with any of you,” he explained. “I just need some time to… to figure things out right now.”

“About Oikawa-san?”

Kindaichi was a lot more perceptive than people gave him credit for. Everyone thought that Kunimi was the perceptive one—that he easily picked up on things because he was quiet and observant—but Kindaichi could pick up on those things too. “Kind of…”

“It’s weird not seeing you two together. Even Kunimi said so… I think we’re all so used to it by now that we take it for granted and now it feels like something is missing…”

It felt weird not _being_ there. It felt weird, empty, spending days and nights without Oikawa by his side. “Yeah, well… he’s busy planning, isn’t he?” Busy trying to find whatever it is he was looking for.

“Yeah. It got approved yesterday.”

“Did it? I’m not surprised. I thought it would.”

Kindaichi nodded, was silent for a moment before he spoke. “Sometimes I still remember shooting that guy from Wakunan… or remember when he almost killed Kunimi, and the end of the Games against Shiratorizawa—I can’t get it out of my head. I still remember killing people… watching people die. It never goes away.”

That sounded familiar. So, so familiar. He frowned when he noticed Kindaichi trembling slightly, reaching out to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you all right?”

“D-does it ever get better? Does this feeling ever go away?”

“No,” he answered honestly, thinking back to not only this past time in the Games, but his first time as well. That time, he remembered feeling a lot like Kindaichi—and probably Kunimi too—were feeling. Lost, confused, alone. And from then on that feeling never went away, no matter how desperately he fought to get rid of it. “It doesn’t. There are some times that are better than others, but it never is completely gone. Maybe someday it can be, but not right away… not yet.”

“How do you get through it, then? How do you make it okay?” 

“Well… I guess it’s because you’ve got someone by your side to help you through all of it. That makes it easier. Because you know maybe you can be okay with them right there with you.” He squeezed Kindaichi’s shoulder comfortingly. “That’s what’s important. And no matter what happens, as long as you have that, things are a little bit better.”

Kindaichi nodded slowly, finally looked up at him. “If that’s true, then maybe you should be with Oikawa-san too, right?”

“Yeah… yeah, maybe you’re right.” Iwaizumi looked away, let go of Kindaichi’s shoulder and took a step back. “Hey, do you know when they’re going through with the plan?”

“It’s tomorrow. They told us about it yesterday and asked who wanted to be part of it.” Kindaichi looked slightly confused about why he was asking all of a sudden. “Is something wrong, Iwaizumi-san?”

“No, not at all.” For once it felt like he knew what to do, like he wasn’t worried about something. “Kindaichi, thank you.”

The boy seemed taken aback by his words. “Huh? What for?”

“For this.” _For making me realize what I should do._ “I’ll see you around, okay? And don’t worry. The way you feel… it hurts a lot, but as long as you keep what’s important close, you’ll get through it.”

“O-okay. Thank you.”

With a wave, he was off. He wasn’t exactly sure what he would say or do, but just knew that something needed to be done. And he would do it. Promises between them didn’t need to break, could easily be held in place. They weren’t ending, they weren’t going to drift apart and be miserable like this when all they wanted was each other.

They would get through this. They had to.

…

This was it. This was his chance to put his plan into action, to try and figure things out, to fix things. Hopefully.

Sometimes broken things couldn’t be mended though. There was the possibility that this could be a waste of time, effort, that it would hurt more than it would help, but he had to try. No matter what, he had to try.

Oikawa had never been one to sit back and just let things happen. He had to move forward, had to do something. Because sitting around and letting everything that had happened in the Games, in the past, rip him apart and erode away every part of him slowly wasn’t something he could just accept.

He wanted to be okay, happy. More than anything. But happiness didn’t just happen out of nowhere, and even then, maybe it was impossible. It was all he wanted though. More than anything, he wanted a peaceful night’s sleep, a day where he wasn’t jumpy, a moment where he didn’t remember the past and could just move forward.

_Move forward._

This was moving forward. Maybe not the best way to do it, but it was a start. A possibility. An option.

(He hoped it would be worth it.)

“Oikawa!”

He turned, surprised to see Iwaizumi running toward him—he hadn’t expected to see him at all until this was over. “Iwa-chan? Is something wrong?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “No. I wanted to see you… before you left.”

“Oh…” His heartbeat quickened the slightest bit. “Really? What for? I thought—” The words caught in his throat when Iwaizumi grabbed his hand, pulled him into an embrace. Even though he was surprised at the sudden contact, he didn’t resist, wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi and held on tightly. “Iwa-chan?”

“You’re everything.”

“W-what?”

“You are everything to me, you stupid idiot. You’re all I have left; you’re my past, my present, my future, and I love you. I love you so damn much, and I can’t imagine a life where you’re not by my side. No matter what happens and no matter how bad things get, I’m always going to be right here. Because I love you Oikawa Tooru, and you’re the one thing that I know and that I feel safe with. I never want to lose you. This world is hell, we’ve been through hell, but with you it’s not. You give me hope that maybe everything is going to be okay… that we can get through whatever is thrown at us. Together.”

Oikawa sucked in a breath, felt that familiar burning sensation behind his eyes—tears. But he tried to hold them back, struggled to get a laugh out instead. But all he managed was a muffled “Iwa-chan” before Iwaizumi took his face in his hands, leaned in and kissed him.

It was such a relief. A relief and a solace and a lifeline. For the first time in days, he didn’t feel like he was merely existing, only going through the motions to make something happen so he could find a safe and steady place for himself. He felt alive, awakened, _loved_.

Iwaizumi broke the kiss, ignoring the soft whine from Oikawa, brushed his thumb over his cheek. “Hey, Tooru, don’t cry.”

“I’m not! I’m not crying!” He hadn’t even realized that he had been until he felt the tears on his face.

Iwaizumi just laughed, smiled softly, continued to wipe away his tears. “I should’ve known you would. You’ve always been a big crybaby.”

“You can’t say something so romantic and expect me not to react, Iwa-chan! Who knew you had it in you?”

“I can still walk away and take it all back, you know,” Iwaizumi shot out, cheeks red.

“No, it’s too late for that now. You already said it, no taking it back!”

“What are you, five?”  

Oikawa laughed quietly, leaned in and pressed another kiss to Iwaizumi’s lips. “The same goes for me, you know. I can’t even think of what a life without you would be like… I know I wouldn’t have even gotten here. And I love you too. No matter what happens I love you… so much, Hajime.”

“I know you do… We’ll figure it all out, okay? One day it’s going to be okay. _We’ll_ be okay.”

They weren’t going to break, were never going to break. And no matter what happened, they’d get through it. Together—just like they always had. That, each other, was all they needed. All they ever needed. 

Iwaizumi pulled him in close again, hugged him tightly, tangled his fingers in Oikawa’s hair. “Go do what you have to, okay? I still don’t agree with it, but no matter what happens I’ll be right here. I’ll be right here waiting for you. I promise.”

Oikawa buried his face in Iwaizumi’s shoulder, and nodded slowly. _They were going to be okay._ “Me too. I promise too.”

The things they promised each other were never guaranteed, were only words in the end—no matter how sincere they were. Promises could break, with one simple action they could be severed, cracked, decimated. But one that would never break was them. Staying together, being by each other’s sides, that promise was irreversible, unbreakable, the only thing that was a finality, a certainty in a world filled with doubts and unknowns.

Permanent.

And with one last kiss, a soft brush of their lips, everything was sealed, confirmed, forever ingrained in their hearts. _Wherever you are, I’ll be._

_Always._

…

 _Breathe_ , he told himself. _Breathe._ His fingers were trembling the slightest bit, heart thudding in his chest. Anticipation, yearning, anxiousness. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. For so long, he had wanted this, and now he was ready—ready for it to begin and even more ready for it to end.

(Maybe it would do nothing. Maybe it would make things even worse, but he hoped it did something. Anything.)

The others who had come along looked to him, waited for him to tell them what to do. Oikawa was in charge after all, this was his show. “Go ahead. Destroy them.”

The first explosion had his heart thudding in his chest, brought a twisted grin to his lips. For a moment, a brief moment, he felt a twinge of satisfaction, of retribution. He wanted more. More.

The second explosion… not so much. Screams and cries and gunshots jarred him the slightest bit, but he wasn’t thrown completely off. Not yet. They just made the whole situation a little more real. This was real, not a dream, not something only conceived in his head. It was _real_. 

There was no reason to doubt, though. This was Shiratorizawa, after all. Shiratorizawa, who had taken so much from him, who had drove him to this point, who had tried to knock him down over and over and over again.

(But he was still standing, deserved to stand solid ground with steady feet. The solid and steady weren’t exactly there yet, but they would be eventually. One day, they _would_.)

Shiratorizawa deserved it. That was the mantra that had been running through his head ever since the inklings of this plan first popped into his mind on that night he laid wide awake in bed, shaking and shivering from another nightmare. He had wanted to watch them burn, suffer, experience the same things he had since he was eight years old—this was the chance to get that.

By right, this should have been his greatest moment—a desire, a goal, met, fulfilled—he should have felt accomplished, satisfied, _happy_.

_But he didn’t._

Once the destruction was well under way, he felt numb. Still participated, but felt noting. Absolutely nothing.

Only emptiness.

A scream caught his attention. A little girl was sobbing over her father’s dead and bloody body, pleading for him to wake up. A young boy was running, trying to save his mother from a soldier. Both ended up dead.

The gun Oikawa was holding almost fell out of his hand. Almost. But he gripped it tightly at the last second. The flames swept away the houses around them, the gunshots filled his ears. And he stopped, just staring, staring at everything before him—unable to tear his eyes away.

Because this was so familiar. All of it. Every last bit. The fire, the blood, the destruction, the death. Everything around him caused his mind to flick back to that day—the day when he had completely broken, but also pushed that aside, forced himself to stand back up and make a vow, a promise, that he swore he would keep. He wanted to destroy Shiratorizawa, to knock them down, to make them feel worthless, to get them back.

And he had. In more ways than one. He won the Games, was paying them back in full force with this.

So then why did it feel wrong?

He jolted back to attention when someone grabbed him by the shirt, shook him angrily. It was a man, bleeding, in obvious pain, would die soon without help. Why was he grabbing onto him? Why was he—?

“Winning wasn’t enough, you damn bastard? You had to break all the rules too?!”

Oikawa’s eyes widened for a second—he lost control of the face he was trying to put on. But as quickly as it fell, he had it back, shoved the man off of him. He tried not to focus on the blood smeared on his shirt, his hands.

“Was it worth it? Was this worth it, bastard?”

“It was,” he lied. And he pointed his gun at the man, pulled the trigger, turned away as soon as the shot went off.

It wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

“Oikawa-san?” He turned the moment he heard his name, ready for any distraction from this.

“You’re done?”

“Yeah, everything is finished, destroyed.”

“Good. Let’s go, then.”

His fingers shook worse than before, heart hammering in his chest. It was over, he’d done it. He truly won. Fully and resolutely completed what he had set out to do. But he still felt the same inside. It had done nothing.

Absolutely nothing. Everything just felt dark, empty, was an abyss that there was no getting out of. There was no escaping this vicious cycle. Ever. Because even with victory, there were scars, even with retribution, there were doubts.

Happiness was fleeting. Darkness was all there was. Without complete escape from this way of life, this universe—this state of existence where just accepting that throwing lives away and eliminating those who weren’t strong enough to survive was normal, right—nothing good was ever achievable. _Ever._

…

Iwaizumi woke to a hand on his shoulder, shaking him—a little frantic, desperate. “Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan, wake up.”

He was barely able to make out Oikawa sitting on the edge of the bed, hand still on his shoulder, holding on tightly as he shook him awake. He sat up, tired and eyes bleary, but relieved, relieved to see Oikawa there, safe. “Tooru? What’re you doing? What’s—?”

He stopped, didn’t say anymore when Oikawa hugged him tight, desperate. It was awkward, their limbs twisted, the position uncomfortable, but he still settled his arms around Oikawa, hugged him back just tightly. “What’s wrong?”

“I messed up,” Oikawa muttered slowly, pulling back and refusing to look Iwaizumi in the eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“It didn’t make me feel any better. It made me feel worse. And… and all of those people… that’s on me.”

Iwaizumi could have said “I told you so,” could have said that he’d known something like this would happen. But he didn’t. Instead, he just pulled Oikawa’s shaking body back into his arms and held him. A promise that he was there, that he wouldn’t leave.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, or when they had ended up moving to lie down, still wrapped up in each other—limbs tangled together and Oikawa’s face buried in Iwaizumi’s shirt.

Finally, Oikawa looked up at him, broke the heavy silence lingering between them. “Iwa-chan?”

“Hmm?” 

“Am I really worth it? I don’t understand how. I don’t understand why you stay or how I deserve you…” His voice was low, sad, broken—emotions Iwaizumi never liked to hear from him.

Iwaizumi frowned. He hated, absolutely hated when Oikawa acted like this, when he got so down on himself, doubted everything, thought he was a burden, not worth anyone’s time. Oikawa didn’t think he deserved love and support, thought that he wasn’t worth enough for anyone to stick around by their own free will. And Iwaizumi couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand that Oikawa had to ask, had to be reassured that he wasn’t alone and that someone was there—would always be there.

(He should have known that he didn’t have to ask— _never_ had to ask.)

Because no matter how much Oikawa doubted it, no matter how many times he needed to ask Iwaizumi for confirmation or assurance, the answer was always the same. Despite everything they had been through, despite the blood, the tears, the pain, despite the fact that Oikawa could be frustrating and hard to deal with and liked to hide rather than show all of himself to the world, he _was_ worth it. He would _always_ be worth it.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Oikawa’s and looking at him, intent and focused, but warm and affectionate too. “I hate it when you think like that. You do deserve it, okay? I love you… just as much as you love me. I’m not staying with you because I have to or feel obligated to, you dumbass. I want to. I always want to. I’m not going anywhere. Get that through your head.”

The relief Oikawa felt was evident on his face, and the idea that they were going to be all right relaxed him. He reached up, resting his hands on Iwaizumi’s face, fingers ghosting over his skin. A “thank you” and an “I love you too” all in one gesture. “So… now what?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Iwaizumi answered. “We always do, don’t we?”

And Oikawa nodded, smiled the slightest bit. It still wasn’t a completely happy or satisfied smile, but it was real and that was perfect enough for him. “Yeah, we do.”

…

“People are staring…” Oikawa gripped Iwaizumi’s arm tightly. He felt small walking through the village and having all of those looks directed his way. Eyes that once held reverence and admiration had turned cold, fearful, disappointed.

“It’s never bothered you before,” Iwaizumi muttered. But despite the words he reached down and grabbed Oikawa’s hand, like he knew what was bothering him.

“But it feels like some of them are judging me… for _that_ …”

“It doesn’t matter what they think. No one will ever completely understand it anyway… not unless they’ve lived through it and the same that’s happened to us happened to them. Don’t worry about it.”

He wasn’t completely convinced, but still nodded. “Yeah…”

Iwaizumi looked like he could tell—he always could, but didn’t say so, just squeezed Oikawa’s hand.

The reaction to his plan had been mixed. Some had reacted favorably, were praising Aobajousai for doing such a thing, for ensuring that no one team could hold the crown for that long ever again. But others were angered, were questioning the whole system if one village could pull a stunt like that—they said it was against the rules, unforgiveable.

Even though it didn’t help him feel better, and things stayed the same as before, he couldn’t say he completely regretted it. All of those innocent people getting killed on account of his plan, yes, he regretted. But the same would have happened to Tokonami, the first team wiped out, so innocent blood would have been shed no matter what. Rules or no rules.

There was a new level of distrust among the other villages after it, though. Peace between them was supposedly disrupted. (Which was laughable because who could claim there was peace when each year teenagers fought for their own lives and held the weight of so many others on their shoulders? It was war glorified into competition, entertainment. There had never been peace. Probably never would be.)

The whole mess had even brought about talks of war, rebellion. Granted, they were only whispers at the moment, nothing concrete, were carried away by the wind soon after being brought up. But it was a possibility in the future. A strong possibility.

And no matter how devastating a war could be, no matter how much he didn’t want to be part of one, he almost hoped something would come about to completely shatter this flawed system, end this constant and inescapable cycle. Almost.

“Just because your year is over doesn’t mean your work is done,” Irihata had told them. “You two are the best we have, you’ll have to work to help prepare the other teams, and if any rebellions start or if a war really does break out, we’ll need you.”

They had nodded, agreed to what he was telling them to do, but both of them knew just by sharing a simple look that they didn’t want any of this. They wanted to be finished, through, able to move on without thoughts of war and more violence following them as closely as their own shadows, casting dark and haunting silhouettes on their lives.

That couldn’t be accomplished here, couldn’t even be accomplished in this world. Not when everything stayed stagnant and there was no chance of breaking the system.

_(Do I want part of this? Do I belong here? Is this home?)_

_(No. No. No. The answer was always no.)_

…

As soon as he sat down next to Oikawa, Iwaizumi punched him hard in the shoulder. “What the hell, dumbass?” 

“OW! Iwa-chan, what was that for?”

“I woke up and you weren’t there. What’re you doing out here? The sun’s not even up yet.”

He had woken up to nothing in his arms, the other side of the bed cold and it sparked a moment of panic in him because he wasn’t expecting Oikawa to just leave like that. But he calmed himself down (he was a lot better at doing that now) and went to find Oikawa. Still, he had felt a little unsettled when the brunet was nowhere in the apartment, nor in his own, or even outside. Which sent Iwaizumi on a quest to find him in the early hours of the morning. It took a little bit of looking around, but he finally found him, near the edge of the village, sitting by the gates, knees drawn to his chest.

“Sorry, Iwa-chan. Couldn’t sleep,” Oikawa murmured quietly. He didn’t look at him, just rested his chin on his drawn up knees, continued staring at the gates, at what lied beyond them. “I just needed to get out for a little bit, and you looked comfortable, I didn’t want to wake you. I was actually going to come back in a minute.”

“Some sort of warning would be nice next time, you know. You scared me…” 

“Okay…” He leaned back, resting his palm on the ground near Iwaizumi’s hand. Their fingers were inches from touching, so close to each other.

They sat in silence for a few moments, just watched the sun slowly creep upwards on the horizon, admired the way it softly lit everything around it. For a moment, the world looked quiet, safe, serene—nothing like it actually was: filled with death, destruction, danger. It brought a sense of false security, in a way, because everything may have looked fine, but it wasn’t.

(And the odds most likely said that it never would be. Not here, not unless something changed.)

The morning chill, the calm gust of wind, the tiredness behind his eyes all made him ready to take Oikawa’s hand in his own, to drag him up with a simple “Let’s go home,” but Oikawa’s soft voice, a quiet whisper almost lost to the wind beat him to it.

“You know… when I was a kid my mom told me about places that are different than here. They don’t live like we do, they don’t have the Games.”

He’d heard whispers of that too, even heard that some people left their lives here and set out for someplace safer—someplace where they didn’t have to watch kids kill other kids, where their lives didn’t depend on one single competition. “Yeah? They’re lucky then…”

It was against the law, treason, to leave. Anyone who did could be hunted down, would be exterminated. If you couldn’t stand by your fate, couldn’t put all of your faith into your home and your team, couldn’t give up your own life and chance at safety and happiness then you weren’t fit to survive. You were weak and deserved to be executed if caught. That was what survival of the fittest was all about, and all of the villages—no matter how much they disliked or resented each other—would agree on that, would work together to eliminate any outliers or anyone who threatened this “perfect system.”

(It was laughable, really.)

“What do you think it would have been like if we hadn’t come here? If we took off when we were kids and never looked back?”

He frowned, thinking of what life would have been like if instead of going out for revenge and throwing themselves right into the thick of this mess, the very center of the cycle, they had run far away to somewhere safe. “A lot different. Normal… happier, probably…”

They used to dream about going past the gates when they were kids—had even done it before and gotten into trouble—and had always wondered what it was like outside, had a childish thirst for adventure and a curiosity so strong they were willing to try anything back then. Back when things had been normal, before they truly understood anything about death and destruction and loss, before the Games had become so woven into their lives, an unbreakable and restricting thread that could never completely be severed no matter how badly they wanted to cut all ties now.

“Sometimes I regret it…”

Choosing to fight? Roping themselves into this mess? “Yeah, me too.”

Oikawa sighed softly, a great contrast to the hard look in his eyes. “I wouldn’t take it back. I wouldn’t, because we both wanted this and did end up meeting our goal and beating them, and at least that was for our families’ sakes. But… everything that went into it, everything that came after… I don’t know about anymore.”

Iwaizumi laughed, harsh and bitter. “We really threw away any chance of being normal, didn’t we?” They had it, were living it back then. It was in their grasps, but now it was so far out of reach there was probably no way they could ever obtain it again.

“Back then, it didn’t seem like we had much of a choice,” Oikawa murmured, just as bitter. “Maybe we still have a chance, though.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Because even if things do keep changing and getting worse, we always have a choice. Maybe back then it didn’t seem like it, but now we do. We don’t owe anyone anything.”

Oikawa hummed thoughtfully at his words. “A choice, huh? Seems weird thinking like that because for so long we were focused on fighting and winning, of getting what we wanted, and it was so ingrained in our heads… but you’re right. Now that it’s over, we can move forward however we want to.”

“That’s all we can do, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is.” Oikawa looked a little distant, thoughtful, as he looked back out at the gates one more time—his forehead crinkled and eyes set but staring at nothing in particular out there, maybe just thinking of the idea that something better _was_ there, existed.

Iwaizumi rested his hand on top of Oikawa’s, felt him relax as soon as he did, the touch driving away any tension that had existed before it. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We agreed it’s gonna be okay, right?”

“Right…”

He finally stood, held out his hand to pull Oikawa to his feet too. “So let’s go home. Let’s go back and—”

“I’m already there,” Oikawa murmured so softly Iwaizumi wasn’t sure he heard right at first.

“Huh? What do you—?”

Oikawa took his outstretched hand, pulled himself up. He stood in front of Iwaizumi for a second, letting the question linger between them before he leaned forward, curling his fingers in Iwaizumi’s shirt and leaning his head against his chest. “I’m already home. It’s with you. My home _is_ you.”

And when Iwaizumi settled his arms around Oikawa, held him tightly in his grasp, he realized that he was right. Home wasn’t a place, not for them. He had always considered here somewhere they could stay, somewhere they _would_ stay, but the houses they were living in were just that, weren’t they? Houses. Empty and cold and breakable. Somewhere that could be abandoned in an instant. Home was different, home was a person. Oikawa was home, would always be his home. Constant, permanent, unbreakable. A definite in a world filled with uncertainties.

He pressed a kiss to the top of his head before resting his cheek against Oikawa’s soft hair. “Me too. You’re my home too. And whatever you want to do now, whatever we decide, I’m there too, right there with you.” 

A soft affirmative hum. “I might have a few ideas…”

“Oh? Well, let’s hear them, then.”

Oikawa looked up at him, a bright smile on his lips. “You up for something crazy, Iwa-chan?”

And Iwaizumi found himself smiling too. Really smiling. “Dumbass, with you _everything_ is crazy.” _And I wouldn’t change any of it. Ever._

             

_Wherever there is you_

           

Summer was drawing to a close, warm air would fade, be replaced by cold. Long days would turn short with less light than before, nights would become dark and endless. But the end of _this_ summer was so much different than all of the previous ends. This one didn’t bring them closer to their chance to win, it didn’t signal the beginning of a whole year of stress and fear, worries and pressure.

No, this time it was something different. This time, they didn’t have to worry about fulfilling promises, about staying true to words whispered in dark rooms and choked out between quiet sobs. They didn’t have to fear breaking, agonize about taking something uncontrollable into their hands, about taming fate to work in their favor.

The only promise they ever needed was each other. Whispers of _I’ll stay_ and _I’m right here_ and _I’ve got you_ —those were promises that could be counted on. Survival hadn’t been a guarantee. Getting through everything after, moving forward hadn’t been a definite. Happiness still wasn’t certain.

(But with each other, maybe it was. Maybe it had a much better chance at becoming a certainty that way.) 

They stood at the gates, looked out into the unknown, were ready to face whatever the future held for them—no matter what it was.  

Iwaizumi shifted the pack on his shoulder, turned to look at Oikawa. “You ready?”

And Oikawa looked at him, lips upturned into a smile. “Yeah, I am.”

He reached over, grabbed Iwaizumi’s hand. Their fingers twined together so naturally, it was as easy as breathing.

He’d come to accept that things would always be unknown, uncertain, that nothing was a guarantee. Whether they stayed here, in a cold and desolate world, trapped in a cycle that would never get better, or whether they left all of that and went somewhere new, somewhere they could start over, the outcomes were unclear. But he was willing to take that risk, to trust in what he knew and get through everything one step at a time.

War, death, destruction, those were things he never wanted. Before they had been thrown into this hell, all he wanted was to be normal, happy.

Now was the chance. To get better, to move on, to build themselves into what they wanted to be.

The world would probably always be hell, the cynic in him wasn’t going to deny that. They had lived through hell and that would stick with them, plague their minds even years later. But no matter how inescapable it seemed, they weren’t going to give into it, weren’t going to let the doubt, the desperation, the hopelessness prevail. That wasn’t a game they’d play into. Not anymore.

They wouldn’t be dragged down. They would move forward. Together. Always.

And with a final look, soft smiles shared and hands given a reassuring squeeze to cement the promise, the vow, the bond between them, they took their first steps forward. Out of the darkness and into the light.

A new future, a new beginning. All possible, all within reach.

 _That_ was a promise.  

_I will be there too._


End file.
